


Tear the Sky Apart

by Never__again



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Deities, M/M, Mother Nature - Freeform, Understanding, many feelings, many lightning bolts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 80,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23311723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Never__again/pseuds/Never__again
Summary: Jongdae manipulates the weather according to his mood - he doesn't mean to, it simply happens. Minseok is tasked to break his heart so there will be an endless supply of rain for their dried up land.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 46
Kudos: 156
Collections: SnowSpark Fest Round One





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt number: 352
> 
> Dear prompter, I must warn you: I let myself get carried away. I expected this fic to turn out a lot shorter and a lot less dramatic. If that is what you expected too, I am really sorry. But it has been a pleasure to write this therefore I must thank you for entering this prompt, it sparked a whole universe in my mind and I hope you will enjoy the journey as much as I did.

Minseok would grumble curses under his breath if he could. Too bad that he can't afford wasting his breath, or else he doesn’t doubt that he would simply drop dead on that godsforsaken hillside.

He's trudging through the trees of the steep slopes of the mountain, which would already be a feat in itself even without the torrid climate, let alone without useless grumbling that would go unheard in the deserted landscape anyway. The sun is burning the skin on his nape and his arms, his head feels hot and heavy despite the protective cloth he wrapped around it, and the air he breathes is unforgiving.

Needless to say, right in this moment he can see where the Council comes from. If he were one of the wisemen himself, he would do anything to fight the heat. He would have sent someone to stop the heat as well. He would have used all the available resources, uncaring of the resources' feelings.

But Minseok  _ is  _ their resource. And besides not being sure about being their last resource he, unfortunately, has feelings.

Not that the Council had cared about those, though. Its members stomped on Minseok’s feelings with the same delicacy of a stubborn horse, like the ones Minseok used to help his parents with when they worked at the stables. 

So yes, Minseok had felt stomped on, but he tries to remind himself that in their position he'd probably step all over himself too.

It still doesn't make it any easier.

Minseok stops briefly, trying to shelter under the shadows of a tree. The undergrowth under his feet, withered and burned by the sunrays no longer filtered by the leaves of the trees above, crackles under the soles of his feet. 

During the second half of his life, he had felt like he had been watching the world through a coloured glass. His uncle had been a glassmaker, he used to trade dusts and pigments from the Desert merchants, and he put them in the pieces he worked on so that they were tinged of any colour of the rainbow. When they were kids, Minseok and his sister used to love looking through all his creations, watching the world tinting blue, green, pink.

The Plains haven’t needed a tinted glass for a long time, it all turned yellow anyway. 

Minseok tries to breathe in deeply. He fails.

He wants to remove his sweaty shirt, but he changes his mind when his fingers brush against the back of his neck and he feels his reddened skin protest against the touch. The last thing he needs is to burn himself completely, he thinks, as he resumes his weary walk.

They didn’t even assign him a horse. And Minseok’s stables have been empty for a long while, so he couldn’t produce one of his own.

He tries not to think about his parents, his sister. The treasured memories he preserves of them must not be tarnished by his present frustration. And he tries not to think about the wisemen, because that would make him bristle. Not convenient, as he found out the first days of his lonely march through the Plains; anger wastes a lot of energy. 

The more energy he wastes, the slower he goes. The slower he goes, the more the Plains die. He’s shouldering a lot of responsibility and he knows it, even though it had been dumped on his back without being really asked. Minseok likes to think he had a choice. Too bad he didn't.

Hours trickle by, much slower than the sweat that drenches his body, much slower than he would have liked them to. In the beginning of his journey he walked after the sun had set, but after the road had transformed itself into a faded trail and then into nothingness, he had had enough close encounters with holes, dens, precipices, fallen trees, ponds and other dangers hidden in the dark to decide he couldn't continue at night.

He never sees or hears any animal. He hopes they all just migrated away, to luckier lands, because if they all died Minseok could make it rain however much he wanted to, they were all doomed anyway.

How cruel of the weather's master to kill them all. Unless they had been crueler to him before, and a revenge was only fair.

But still. Minseok had done nothing wrong to this person, whoever he is. He heard whispers, rumors, speculations, but it's so hard to differentiate facts from myths. They just know it’s a boy he has to look for, a man now, of twenty-five years. Any old woman in the villages can come up with a new story about a kid whose temper tantrums made trees catch fire from a lightning bolt and whose tears could make rivers swell out of their beds, whose joy made the snow melt during winter and whose sadness made the harvest go to waste because of a sudden hail storm during the summer. 

Old women talk. Old men tsk. Yet here they are; not a single droplet of water from the sky since four solar years ago.

Minseok must admit that he’s prone to thinking the kid must be very cruel indeed, to make them suffer this way. The wisemen seem sure of this particular character trait of the weather’s master, despite not knowing him.

Minseok is just a commoner, a worker, so he didn't question them when they said that the climate is getting hotter and hotter because the weather’s master is getting happier and happier to know they're all withering like the undergrowth Minseok's stomping on. He didn't argue when they said the only way to make the rain come would be to make the weather's master sad. It made sense when they said it, all eloquent in their wooden thrones.

What does not make sense at all, is that  _ Minseok  _ would be able to stop this alleged villain from starving and overheating the whole country. But they drew Minseok’s name from the satchel, and off he went the next morning.

Minseok really hopes he can find him, to make the rain come. But he also hopes he won't find him, because he’s not in a hurry to be on the receiving end of his pitiless fury. 

Maybe the unchanging blue skies are due to the absence of the weather's master. What if he died? How would they know? If that was the case, how would they go back to normal? Should they wait until the birth of another master? Perish in the meantime?

The Council hadn’t bothered to answer these questions when Minseok tried to ask.

The sun sets and Minseok stops walking. He doesn't have water to drink, he doesn't find relief in the darkness. Even though it's a little less warm, there's still no wind. Even the black, coarse soil he's laying on is warm, giving back the sun it absorbed during the day.

Minseok closes his eyes thinking about the faceless weather's master. As a droplet of sweat descends from his forehead to his temple then into his hair, he decides he really hopes he will find him.

He doesn’t like the idea of hurting this person, but he will do what he has to do.

-

The higher Minseok gets on the Mountain, the cooler the atmosphere. He also starts finding some brooks where he can drink and wet his clothes to better withstand the sun, which make him feel considerably better. But the relief is short because he also runs out of food, and while it makes his sack lighter, it makes him weaker. Not many edible things grow in such a landscape.

The trees are sparser and less tall, providing less shadow. His muscles are sore, something in his right knee feels a little stiff, and his skin is starting to peel off on his nape and his arms. He feels filthy and increasingly tired, to the point that sometimes he zones out for long periods of time and he almost loses the right direction.

He's starting to panic; the wisemen had said that after he left the road, it would take him approximately ten days to lead him to the place where the weather's master is supposed to live, but Minseok has been walking for two whole weeks and not only hasn't he met anyone, he also feels like the mountaintop is still quite far. The climb seems endless.

He walks faster, he sleeps less. He lets the anxiety consume his energies even more than the sun itself. He owes this to his sister, her kids. He must make it, or the wisemen will get angry.

People disappear when the wisemen get angry.

On the sixteenth day, as he was following an old track used by animals that have long left the land, he accidentally tumbles down in an empty creek chute and he realises he can’t cross it as he initially thought, and he can’t go back on his steps because the gravel doesn’t hold his weight. Since the only way out is through, he climbs up. 

His clouded mind doesn't alert him of the danger until he's walking right into it, and the slope catches him off guard; he wasn't looking at the ground under his feet, he wasn't paying attention to the uneven slope made of rocks and scraps of dead wood.

He wasn't looking at the ground because he thought he saw a person, at the top of the climb in front of him.

Maybe the heat is making him hallucinate, maybe not. 

“Hey!” he calls instinctively.

He doesn't have time to assess the reality or lack thereof in what his eyes are registering, because there's a noise. The loudest he has ever heard, as if someone tore the sky apart over his head and cracked the earth open under his feet. There's whiteness. His entire world shivers.

He doesn't even feel the fall.

But he definitely feels the fresh caress of the wind on his face, and the smell of rain.

Maybe he's dead, maybe not.

If he were awake, he would smile. Droplets of water are hundreds of temptresses on his chapped lips, so he lets himself be kissed. He lets the feeling of relief drown him for what he thinks would be the last time, as the sky pieces itself back together and the earth, solidly closed under his back, cradles him and offers him to the dark clouds above.

-

Minseok wakes up surrounded by the scent of pine trees, wet soil, and something else he doesn't know. It's that third unknown element that makes him realise that maybe, maybe he’s not reliving a distant memory.

The world is still tingling around him, or maybe it's just the sound of rain on a roof that fills his head. Familiar, longed for, and finally accessible.

He snaps his eyes open. Wooden beams, light and regular, support the same roof that is being pummelled by heavy rain.

He can't help but run a hand over his face, feeling his dry skin and heaving a sigh at the memory of fresh raindrops on his face. A memory, or a hallucination. He can’t tell, and his head hurts.

His movements make the covers draped over his body rustle, and he rolls on his side chasing their warmth.

Stunned, he stops. There's a window, next to him, and outside of the window a vast, flourishing meadow whose colours reach Minseok's stupefied eyes only dimmed, because the sun is obscured. There are drops of water racing on the glass, reaching the lower frame.

It's raining.

It's. 

Raining.

Minseok sits up. His first illogical instinct is to scream. He can't find his voice. He stumbles out of the bed, head spinning, and he helps himself walk with a hand on the wall. He finds what he was looking for almost immediately, on that same wall.

"Oh — hey, wait!" a voice calls behind him. There's thunder, and the rain becomes louder on the roof.

Minseok grabs the door handle and pulls, inhaling deeply.

It's raining!

"Wait, you can't go outside, you're already hurt as it is!"

A hand closes around Minseok's wrist.

Minseok breaks free and spins around and finds himself face to face with an unknown man.  _ Now  _ it would be logical to scream, but he doesn’t find his voice.

Something tells him he's exactly where he's supposed to be, but the presence of this person clashes with the realisation that this is not his own house. The verdant meadow outside the stranger's window is not the same arid field that he has seen every single day for the past years.

Without taking his eyes away from the man, Minseok steps back. And then back again, outside the house. The naked soles of his feet meet wet grass, and on the third step back he feels the rain on the palms of his outstretched hands.

Here it is, the kiss of rain on his face.

Minseok meets the man's eyes. He seems confused, shy, and a little scared.

It's him. It's the weather's master.

Soon, Minseok is soaked to his bones.

That's the person whose will, heart and soul he's tasked to break.

Minseok starts shivering. His tremors hide the sob that shakes his chest.

"All right," the man finally says, looking down and stepping under the rain as well. "Come inside. You're going to be sick."

He hadn't stopped Minseok's eccentric will to stand in the rain, and he watched for a while as Minseok tried to make out the situation he was in. But now he reaches him in the meadow, barefoot as well, and gently herds him inside the house. 

"What were you thinking?" the man sighs, guiding him to a chair. He's not reprimanding or frustrated. His voice remains small, somewhat hesitant, and his eyes kind and soft.

Minseok didn't remember chairs. He didn't look around, and now that he tries he's blinded by droplets of water falling from his wet hair on his forehead.

The man envelops him with a towel and gives him another one for him to dry his hair. Then he walks away, grumbling something to himself. The sky echoes him, a low, distant thunder murmuring the sky's puzzlement.

Minseok falls from the chair, unconscious.

-

The house, Minseok notices once he manages to wake up, having mysteriously found his way to the bed again, is not big. It's more elaborate than a hut in its structure, more solid and refined, but it's still just a rectangle divided in two rooms. In the room where Minseok is laying now, there's a wide window and a bed in front of it. A large stone fireplace, a table with six chairs, a rudimental stove, cupboards. On every wall, rows and rows of shelves full of books.

Sitting on the soft carpet in front of the fire, the weather's master is immersed in the reading of one of those books. The rain outside is persistent, but not as heavy as before.

Minseok uses it as the perfect occasion to stare at the man. He knew it was going to be a man younger than himself, but for some reason he always pictured him as an older person. Probably because of his immense powers, or because of the portrait of him that the wisemen had made and all the rumors were absolutely unflattering, basically just a long list of flaws and curses, and none of it seemed to belong to a young person.

The weather’s master has wavy black hair, a little ruffled as if he had run his fingers through them a lot, and the glimmering light of the fire paints shadows on his face where his face structure needed its beauty to be highlighted. High cheekbones, almond eyes, straight brows, and in the middle of all those severe lines, lips as soft looking as the same clouds he governs, shaped in curls at their corners. The man's skin tone gives Minseok the mental image of it being dipped in golden honey. 

He tries to think that maybe it’s just the fire light that gives that impression. He refuses to believe that the other could be so attractive.

He refuses to recognise the feeling in his chest as what it actually is.

The other must feel his gaze, because he looks up. "You're awake!" he exclaims in relief.

Nervously, Minseok clears his throat. "I'm sorry ,  what — what happened?"

The weather's master scrambles to stand up, the book falling from his lap face down on the carpet. "You were walking behind me on the trail and I didn't see you so — I mean, there has been — lightning struck near us and you fell on the slope. You hit your head. I'm sorry I brought you here, you wouldn't wake up and I was scared," he rambles, explaining himself hastily. He has a nice, melodic voice even when he stammers.

Minseok looks around himself again, then up at the man. He doesn't even try to get out of the cocoon of covers and towels wrapped around his body. "How much time..."

The man swallows. "Yesterday, it was... yesterday." He reluctantly steps closer. "Are you feeling all right? Do you need anything? Oh, no, I'm so bad at this — I'm so sorry, I haven't seen people in a while. Uhm. Are you hungry? You’re so thin — are you in pain?"

Minseok reaches behind his head to prod at a spot that feels particularly sore. His fingers meet the scabbing of the bruise where he must have hit his head. He blinks, taking in the way the other fidgets in place, fiddles with the hem of his shirt. 

"Did you try to hit me with that lightning on purpose?"

The other freezes. "You know who I am."

It's not a question. Not with a voice hard like that.

The members of the Council would take turns and slap him one by one if they saw Minseok being this dumb. 

"I assumed," he tries to correct himself. "I thought — I mean, everyone knows who you are, and the rain..." Minseok is not even lying at this point. "I hadn't seen the rain in so long."

The other's lips and chin wobble. "How long?"

Minseok can't help the knot in his throat. "Years."

With a pained expression, the man steps away again, as if he wanted to put distance between them. 

"You know who I am," he repeats.

"You're the weather's master."

"Master..." He scoffs, turning his back to Minseok to look outside the window. "What are you doing here? What were you looking for?"

_ You. _

"The rain." Minseok lies.

Is it a complete lie?

"You found it," the weather’s master declares with sadness. "Though I'm afraid it's not doing much for your Plains. You're from the Plains, right?" he asks, turning his head over his shoulder.

"How did you know?"

"I am from the Plains as well. You could be either from the Plains or from the Sea, but people from the Sea don't look like us and you were on the wrong side of the Mountain." He sighs, and moves closer again, shy again. "Are you sure you're fine? I can... I don't know, make you something to eat? Give you some dry clothes?"

When Minseok doesn't answer, all his hesitation becomes worry and he quickly crouches in front of him, scrutinising his face. "Did you hear me?"

Minseok wants to say yes. And also yes to the food, and the dry clothes. But he cannot wrap his mind around the fact that he's here, and he's supposed to do things, say things, eventually cause suffering, or the wisemen will take something from him. So he's supposed to take something from this man instead.

"What's your name, weather's master?" he asks in a whisper.

It makes the man blush a little, and it doesn't really make sense because it's such a basic question. "People from the Sea call me Chen, but you're from the Plains like me. The last name our people called me was Jongdae."

_ Our people _ . The same people who shunned him, exiled him, and sent Minseok up there to break him.

Minseok nods to himself.

Jongdae.

"My name is Minseok. Thank you for everything, Jongdae."

Jongdae smiles. The curls at the corners of his lips pull his mouth into a grin, a genuine one.

Behind him, outside the window, a ray of sunlight breaches through the clouds.

-

Minseok soon realises that the weather's master, Jongdae, would not be too hard to break. It’s almost as if Jongdae were made to be broken: his naivety and his good heart would inevitably lead him to his own demise.

For starters, Jongdae had welcomed him into his home without a second thought. He could have left Minseok to bleed out under the pouring rain, he could have pretended he wasn't there, but instead he carried his unconscious body over the plateau and into his own home. Which was not exactly around the corner: Minseok had looked at the plateau under the summit for days, it was his destination since it was rumored to be the home of the weather's master and some sort of oasis the latter would selfishly keep hydrated only for himself, and now he can spot the grey and green of the Mountain's summit from the window. It's much closer than he remembers, and clearer. As if the air over the plateau were cleaner, not stiff with months of dust.

Furthermore, Jongdae had assisted him for an entire day and had given him a bed. A complete stranger! A stranger from the Plains, nonetheless. The wisemen had told Minseok to be careful, for the weather's master would definitely hate people from the Plains, that was why, in their opinion, he was cooking them to death under the sun.

Jongdae called them  _ our people.  _ That is how much he hates them.

Minseok had his head full of warnings from the wisemen. One of them even said the weather's master would try to play the same game, to eventually gain the upper hand and break Minseok instead. But Minseok finds it very hard to believe that Jongdae would be a cold and calculating individual, a schemer, especially after observing him for a while.

Jongdae seems like a shy person. He moves briskly around the stove to prepare something for Minseok to eat, throwing him quick glances as if he’s scared Minseok would start bleeding or faint again. When he talks to him he blushes a little, and his hands don't seem in complete mastery of what they are doing whenever Minseok replies to him. He can barely cross his gaze for longer than a second, and when he does and he catches himself doing it he immediately averts his eyes to the corners of the room.

It's not raining anymore, the sun alternates to the clouds and temporarily comes out. It's shy just like its master.

However, Minseok keeps a wary eye out, just in case.

"I hope you like it." Jongdae's lips curl a little as he puts a bowl with some soup in front of his host.

Minseok takes the spoon and examines it. He glances around, at the books on the shelves, at the piles of pots on the stove, at the carpet in front of the fireplace. The Council had said that Jongdae had been forced to leave the Plains with just a cart, and a cart wouldn’t be enough to haul a tenth of the objects in his sight to the summit. "How did all this stuff get here?"

Jongdae smiles, a happy memory clearly crossing his head. "My friends brought me stuff every change of the seasons," he explains. "I told them to stop after a while, because I have more than I could ever need, but they wanted me to be comfortable."

Now this is an unexpected answer. Minseok hesitantly dips the spoon in his bowl. "Your friends?"

"Yes. I really miss them."

One side of Minseok wants to investigate, the other side of himself is still distrustful. "Are you not going to eat?" he asks.

Jongdae flinches and stares at the table under the palm of his hands. "Right. Sorry. I haven't been around people for a while ...  is it — is it impolite to let a guest eat alone? It's not at the Sea, but maybe on the Plains — "

"It's fine," Minseok hurries to reassure him. "I was just worried for you."

Jongdae blushes to the root of his hair. Minseok can swear he hears the rumble of thunder, very far away.

Jongdae doesn't answer, but he walks back to the pot where he had cooked and retrieves a bowl for himself. The fact that he eats the same thing Minseok is eating reassures the wayfarer that he's not going to be poisoned, at least. It’s a vegetable soup, but there are some small pieces of meat and barley at the bottom of the bowl. It tastes a lot like mushrooms, though.

Minseok had forgotten what half of the things in his bowl tasted like.

"Is this fine? I don't like things very salty, I don't — "

"It's very good." Minseok doesn't even have to lie. He swallows the first spoonful with contentment, his stomach was starting to yell at him for hesitating in front of a full meal, after days of emptiness.

Jongdae seems to read his mind. "Are you saying this just because you haven't eaten in days?" he inquires, mocking a grumpy expression.

"How do you know I haven't eaten in days?"

"Well," Jongdae stirs his soup. "It's a long way from the Plains. Your sack looks pretty empty. And the slopes are not exactly... prosperous."

"Have you seen them?"

"Yes. I found you there, remember?"

"Do you... often walk down the mountain?"

Jongdae's face suddenly hardens. "Just ask, Minseok."

Minseok doesn't. He lowers his head and waits, nervous.

"Yes, I often walk down the mountain. Not so low to be intercepted by our people, because they made it quite clear that they don't want me there, but low enough to know what is happening. For a long time Mother and I have grieved for my people. But I can't control what is happening farther than the border of this plateau," he declares lowly. "And as much as I cried for destroying the land, my tears never touched the ground where I intended them to."

Jongdae stands up. "I'm very sorry, Minseok. I hope you found the answers you were looking for."

Jongdae leaves his half-eaten meal on the counter by the stove and retires to the other room, the one Minseok hadn't seen yet, and closes the door behind himself.

A timid clickety-clack against the window glass lets Minseok know that he had upset Jongdae enough to make it rain.

But as he starts to understand, this rain won't wet the wisemen's greed for revenge.

-

He doesn't see Jongdae for the rest of the day, nor the night. He sometimes hears him move in the other room, and he wonders if the other has a place to rest since the bed Minseok has taken might be his.

Minseok can't sleep much during the night, and when he wakes up at sunrise he's anything but rested. He decides to explore.

He finds his boots near the door and he puts them on. He's still wearing Jongdae's light clothes, which fit almost perfectly on him despite the other being slimmer than himself. The brown pants are a little short on the ankles, but the linen shirt feels nice on his skin.

Minseok walks in the clearing, the hems of his pants getting wet when he brushes against hedges and overgrown flowers that are carrying the moisture of the night.

It stopped raining, and the sky is pink because of the sun that is soon going to peek from behind the summit.

Minseok walks around, his hands behind his back, wondering if there would be a way out of this situation. He cannot go back and stand in front of the Council, telling the wisemen, "Sorry, the weather's master is no longer the master of weather," because it wouldn't make sense (Minseok doesn't entirely believe it either) and it would not be a satisfying explanation to the years-long drought afflicting the Plains. It would upset the wisemen, and people Minseok cares about would disappear. Minseok cannot allow it. He cannot allow anything bad to happen to Baekhyun and Kyungsoo.

Yet continuing on with his plan wouldn't be good either. Breaking the heart of the man in control of nature's forces would benefit no one, because if somehow over time Jongdae has lost his link with the sky and reduced his area of influence to the plateau, the only place benefitting with his suffering would be the plateau itself. And as much as the rain would wet that elevated ground and eventually overflow, there's still a long way to the Plains. The parched slopes of the mountains would absorb all the water, and the riverbeds would be full only up to a certain point.

Minseok has walked in the empty riverbeds of the Plains, so far from the place he's at right now that he doubts Jongdae would be able to suffer so much to fill them all, it's not humanly possible.

But Jongdae is not entirely human, is he?

And Jongdae already perceived that Minseok was not a casual wayfarer since Minseok hadn't been really subtle. This tempts him to just run away and find another solution, maybe convince the wisemen to send someone else.

And if Jongdae actually ends up falling in Minseok's trap... no one guarantees that Minseok would be safe. Once Jongdae understood Minseok's feelings were insincere he would try to get his revenge. They were still two men alone on top of the world, so there is a 50% chance that one of them wouldn't make it out alive if they ever were to fight.

And despite the fact that Minseok has won a few skirmishes at the bars in the Plains and considers himself quite strong while Jongdae seems harmless, the odds are not in Minseok's favour at all.

For starters, Jongdae is the weather's master. And the wisemen had been very clear: you do not kill your weather's master, or the masterless weather will kill you.

And secondly, Jongdae is not entirely human. He could probably zap Minseok by striking lightning on his head at any given moment, even with his eyes closed. He’d almost done it once already, after all.

Minseok has zero chances to make it out alive, unless he plays his cards well, prays he has a lot of luck, and does what the wisemen want him to do.

He realises he's breathing heavily and he reminds himself to relax. He reminds himself that he has time, the wisemen gave him time... not a long time, but still enough to sort things out. 

He has been staring at the same tree, the one isolated in the middle of the meadow, for a while. The sun has almost completely risen.

When he turns around, he can clearly see movement inside the house. Jongdae had been looking at him until a second prior and he's now hiding behind the window's frame. At first it alarms Minseok, he feels spied on, but then Jongdae peaks again with only half of his face, bashfully. This time he doesn't hide when he realises he has been caught.

Even from the distance, Minseok can see his cheeks are pink. A light breeze comes to caress Minseok's face.

Swallowing, Minseok walks back to the house. Jongdae opens the door when he's almost there.

"Are you — leaving?" Jongdae asks, stuttering a little.

Minseok stops. "It's your home, you get to decide. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

Immediately, Minseok regrets his words. If Jongdae wants him to leave, he won't have any other choice than to go back home empty handed.

But Jongdae shakes his head without speaking.

Minseok stares at him.

In the end, Jongdae clears his throat. "If this wasn't your final destination, you can go, I just — but if you want to rest for a while you can stay here. It's not a problem. Your head... I think it’s not wise to wander around until your head is healed."

Exhaling in relief, Minseok nods. "I think I'll stop for a while."

Again, that breeze. And Jongdae's smile.

"About yesterday...."

Jongdae waves his hands in dismissal. "It's fine! I get it. You've actually been nice about it. I just overreacted. I hadn't thought about that for a long while. Maybe I should have. I don't know. It felt right when I found peace, but it doesn't feel right now. It must be horrible down there if you’re looking for the rain on this stupid mountain," he rambles.

Minseok is confused. But he listens carefully.

Jongdae immediately shuts up when he notices the frown on the other's face. He steps away from the door. "Come in. I'm sorry. I haven't seen people in a while, I don't remember how it is to talk to someone other than myself."

"You always say that." Minseok crouches to unlace his boots. "That you haven't seen people in a while."

"Eight months last week," Jongdae confirms, walking to the counter to pour himself some water from a ceramic jug.

"Why?"

Jongdae drinks and puts the cup down, staring at it. "The people from the Sea found themselves another weather's master. Or rather, I should say mistress. I think she was born on the first day of this solar year, I felt something."

Now  _ this _ is very important information. Even more important and revealing, the little bitterness in Jongdae's voice.

Minseok slowly walks up to him, taking a cup from the shelf to pour himself some water. "Your... friends... they were from the Sea?"

"Yeah."

It shouldn't hurt, but it does. Minseok shouldn't feel the need to reassure and comfort the other, but he does. His role as Jongdae's seductor prompts him to hug the other, but he doesn't feel ready for that yet.

Jongdae clears his throat. "I mean, I know they didn't befriend me just because they needed my services. They were sincere. I am sure of it."

"But they haven't visited you ever since she was born."

"Well," Jongdae grimaces. "They write me letters every now and then. Pigeons deliver them."

"When was the last time they wrote to you?"

"A while ago," Jongdae mutters. "A long while ago."

The man standing in his house in the middle of the mountains is already broken-hearted, Minseok realises.

Which brings more realisations.

Since no news of floods, tempests and hurricanes had reached the Plains, it meant that the Sea was no longer Jongdae's area of competency. It had been, for a long while perhaps, because Jongdae had bound himself to their people thanks to their friendship.

Minseok's head spins. It makes sense now; the Sea people had literally snatched their weather's master, and the people from the Plains could not complain about it because they were the ones who sent him away.

When Minseok was younger, their neighboring lands on the coast had experienced a drought similar to the one the Plains are experiencing now. He remembers the thousands of immigrants who left the shores to start a new life away from the sea, which had become their biggest enemy. Their ships wouldn't sail because there was no wind, the waves were immobile and didn't wash the sand of their beaches, resembling calm, quiet lakes, and the surface of the sea was flat like oil in a glass, reflecting the sun like a mirror and amplifying its destructive warmth.

Rumor had it, it was because they lost their weather's master.

A few years before the Sea’s misfortunes, the Plains had exiled their own weather's master because he was too unstable, too fickle. For a while, distance had worked as a mitigator. Then, there had been the drought.

Minseok is ready to bet the drought began when the Sea claimed Jongdae as their own weather's master.

And the reason why Jongdae's powers are now limited to his home and its surroundings, is that right now another weather's master claimed with her birth what was rightfully hers; the power over the weather that regulated the life of her people and the balance of the Sea.

And now Jongdae is no one's people. His powers have an end in themselves, because his home is away from everyone.

Despite calling himself a man from the Plains and despite his obvious attachment to the Sea people who had adopted him (read as: used him), Jongdae is of no use to his Mother nature, nor to mankind.

Minseok understands what he needs to do and finally has an insight into the Council’s plan. He needs to do the same thing the Sea people had done. He needs to claim Jongdae; binding him to himself means binding him to the people from the Plains for he is one of them. He needs to use him. Submit his will to the will of his own people. And then make sure no other population will ever claim him.

Then one day, Jongdae will die, and after a troubled while another weather's master will be born. And at that point maybe the people from the Plains will have learned their lesson, and they won't let go of something as important as their link to nature again.

"Jongdae... you don't deserve this." He can't stop himself from saying that.

Jongdae lifts his gaze, confused. "Deserve what?"

_ Me. You don't deserve what I'm going to do to you. _

"I mean... it sounds horrible. Your friends left you like that and you're here alone... for so long..."

He means it, though.

Jongdae is clearly uncomfortable, but he smiles as he steps away. "It's not that bad. I have a lot of books and things to keep me busy. I was alone a lot even when they came to visit me, since they couldn't stay here for a long time. And it's fine! They have their family, their people, their jobs."

"Then why didn't you go down to the Sea with them?"

Jongdae laughs bitterly. "For the same reason why our people cast me out," he says, his voice with an acidic bite to it. "Because you can't control me."

"They can't control the newborn either. No one can control your kind, Jongdae — "

"Well, I'm not just one of my kind!" Now his voice is snappy, too. Like the snap of energy right before the thunder. "Besides, what do you know about my kind? I am turbulent, and dangerous, and when I'm  _ among _ the people I'm  _ too close _ to the people. Apparently I unleash too much energy or whatever. I never wanted to follow my friends to the Sea. I never even tried. What if I caused a tsunami, huh? What if I killed thousands of people?"

Maybe Minseok is starting to understand what the wisemen meant when they said the other was unstable. But at the same time, how could they possibly know? He was just a little kid when they sent him away. Every single kid at that age is the very definition of unstable. How could they know what he would grow up to become?

And if they were so sure that he was not going to be controlled, why would they think that breaking Jongdae's heart was the key? What if his wrath ended the Plains for good?

He’s good hearted, and kind, and shy. But also assertive, and holds fast to its nature.

Jongdae misinterprets Minseok's silence. He probably thinks that Minseok's frown is due to anger towards him. After all, Jongdae has admitted that he knows he's the cause of the drought. He must know that because of him (or his absence) people have started dying anyway.

"I'm — I'm sorry, I — "

Minseok sees him eye the door, and a second later Jongdae is slinking in that direction.

"Wait — "

Jongdae runs outside, under the pouring rain. Minseok doesn't follow him.

-

"Is this why you're here?"

Minseok jumps when the whispered voice sounds too close all of a sudden. He was sitting on the bench outside, inhaling deeply the scent of the rain, wondering where the other would be.

He opens his eyes and Jongdae is there, soaking wet. Water is dripping from his bangs in front of his face, his clothes cling to his body.

Now the rain is a lighter brizzle, but the sky is dark and promising more rain. Minseok is sure that one of his words could cause the next downpour.

"Why am I here?"

Jongdae sets his jaw, impatient. "You were looking for me."

Minseok doesn't answer.

"What are you going to do now that you found me?"

_ Make you fall in love with me as hard as possible, and then break your heart as hard as possible. _

"I don't know. I was just desperate for the rain."

"What are you going to do now that you found the rain? You came up here uselessly. I am no longer bound to our people. I don't choose whose weather I am to influence."

Minseok lifts his shoulders again. "I am sorry if I offended you, before. Please come inside, you'll catch a cold."

Jongdae snorts. "I am impervious to illnesses caused by the weather."

"You've never caught a cold?"

"Oh, I have. I told Se Hun not to sneeze on me but he seems to be unable to put a goddamn hand in front of his mouth."

Minseok can't help but chuckle at the slightly whiny voice of the other. Se Hun must be one of his friends from the Sea. Well, not  _ friends. _ Calling them friends seems too big of a compliment considering the treatment they reserved for Jongdae, throwing him away like a broken tool after years of service.

Jongdae huffs a laugh as well, seeing him smile, and hides his mouth with one hand. "Besides, don't tell me what to do. This is my house and this is my weather, shall I remind you."

"Oh, my apologies," Minseok hurriedly says, bowing ironically.

Jongdae shakes his head and walks to the door, pushing it ajar. But then he stops, turning to him. "Were you waiting for me?"

Minseok nods.

Jongdae blinks and the rain stops altogether. He disappears inside.

_ You're making my job way too easy, Jongdae. _

-

Minseok helps Jongdae clean up after their dinner. The other is very chatty and explains excitedly about his orchard and his garden, and about how sometimes, with the consent of Mother, he hunts. He talks about Nature as if she’s his real mother, with affection, praising her endlessly about the beauty and the richness of the gifts she gives him to allow him to live on his own at the top of the Mountain. Yes, he has food supplies from the Sea, but most things he gets on his own.

"Like this!" he exclaims, handing Minseok an apple. It's perfectly round, yellow and a little shiny. "Don't worry, I washed it. I got it the day before you arrived, it should be perfectly mature."

Minseok can't remember the last time he ate a ripe fruit. He smells it; it's sweet and heavenly.

Jongdae takes one for himself and goes to sit on his bed, biting into the apple. Minseok stands still, unsure.

Jongdae taps the bed next to himself, his mouth full. "Come sit. I changed the bedding, everything is clean."

Minseok hesitantly sits on the edge of the mattress. "Thank you."

Jongdae takes another bite of the fruit. "Do you like apples? You need to gain weight, you look like you’re going to snap like a dry twig," he asks worriedly once he sees that Minseok is not eating.

"I like them."

Jongdae seems to catch on his train of thoughts. Which is a little worrying, considering that Minseok's mission must not become easy to read, or the outcome might be useless or even deadly.

Also, considering how Jongdae is currently unaccustomed to people, it makes Minseok fear the moment he becomes accustomed to another living human again.

"How long are you staying, Minseok?"

Minseok shakes his head. "I don't know."

"Are you going to wait until you get tired of the rain?"

For some reason, Minseok knows for a fact that he would never get tired of Jongdae and his rain. "Maybe."

Jongdae is silent until he has finished his apple and only the nibbled core is laying on his wet palm. "Do you have a family on the Plains?"

"Not... really."

Thoughtful, Jongdae nods. "Right, you're too young to be married."

"I'm older than it seems," Minseok says with a small smile. "I'm older than you."

Affronted, Jongdae frowns. "How do you know my age?"

"I'm older enough to remember the day they cast you out. I'm twenty-seven."

"With that face? You're kidding me."

"I get that a lot." Minseok laughs.

"You're old enough to have kids!"

Minseok's smile falls. "Well, I'm not a father."

Jongdae licks his lips. "I apologise if I'm being inappropriate."

"No, you're not," Minseok reassures him. "It's just difficult to explain. My parents died and my sister—well, I have her two kids in my care. I'm their family now."

Jongdae is speechless. "How old are they?"

"Baekhyun is five, Kyungsoo is four."

The weather's master's eyes are bulging out. "You left them alone on the Plains? Just to see the rain?"

"No!" Minseok waves his hands defensively. "Of course not! I have a friend, he is in the upper class. He receives more supplies than us, and he took them in before I left. They're fed. They know him and they trust him. They're better off with him than with me."

Jongdae places a hand on his own chest. "You scared me. I was about to kick you back to the Plains to take care of them."

Minseok laughs. "Don't worry."

He doesn't tell Jongdae how the wisemen are supposed to be giving Yixing compensation, even though Yixing would have done it for free. He doesn't talk about how the kids' health is the price of Jongdae's future heartbreak. He doesn't talk about the fact that his failure would mean their disappearance.

"Do you miss them?"

Minseok stares at the apple in his hands.

"Yes."

Jongdae makes a weird movement, as if he was trying to reach him and put a hand on his shoulder, or rub his arm, but then stopped himself.

Minseok looks at him, trying to conceal the sadness in his eyes, and he knows he has failed when the same sadness fills Jongdae's.

"You should go back to them."

For a second, Minseok can't breathe. "Do you want me to go?"

Jongdae flinches, and a second later the glass of the window trembles because of a distant rumble from the sky.

Jongdae shakes his head.

Minseok had thought he would hate every second of his stay on the mountain. Jongdae is making him feel the opposite way. As much as Minseok knows it’s a fake feeling of lack of urgency that is lulling him.

-

"Have you ever seen the Sea?"

Minseok can't help but smile at the excited tone in Jongdae's voice. He shakes his head, which makes the other squeal in delight.

During the past three days the two warmed up to each other a lot. It was practically impossible not to do so, not when they live together surrounded by nothing but uncontaminated nature outside the clearing.

Minseok understands that Jongdae wants his space, and he respects that. Minseok doesn't really need space, he just needs time to think about his situation, so whenever Jongdae wanders off in the woods with no other apparent purpose than looking up at the sky through the tree branches, he lets him with good grace. It seems that the hours they spend on their own are never enough to keep Minseok’s thoughts at a safe distance from Jongdae and the fact that by now, he was supposed to make the other fall in love with him.

He used to think the only way out of the wisemen's arrangement was its own fulfilment, but now that he is starting to know Jongdae he desperately tries to find a way out of the trap without anyone getting hurt.

When Jongdae was just a faceless stranger in his mind, he didn't think it would be so difficult to obey. He just thought of the whole mission as a major nuisance, something completely against his wishes and possibly risky. But he thought only of himself, and of his people, and of the rain, and it seemed worth it, if unfair. 

Now it's starting to become a huge burden, because he came to the conclusion that Jongdae  _ is  _ his people, too.

Besides, it was supposed to be a one-way thing, except that there's not really a way to prevent Jongdae from growing on him. Yes, Jongdae needs his space and tends to be detached or dreamy, but he also gravitates around Minseok. Minseok blames it on the fact that the other poor soul hadn't received a visit in over eight months and is elated to finally have company, rather than on the alarming fact that the other shows concerning signs of a dawning attachment.

Which should make Minseok happy. That’s what he’s here for.

But if the prospect of hurting another person made Minseok unhappy before, now that he knows  _ who  _ he must hurt, it tastes foul.

Minseok is starting to hope that it's all just a way the cunning weather's master has adopted to disguise himself and therefore defend himself from the wisemen's plan. Who knows, maybe he can listen to the whispers of the same wind that springs out of his emotions, and knows why Minseok is there. At least, when at last it turns out that Jongdae is actually a horrible person, Minseok would feel less sorry about breaking his heart. Or failing at doing so.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Minseok asks, adjusting the basket against his hip. He had insisted on helping the owner of the house in the orchard, to pick at the vegetables.

Jongdae, his cheek streaked with dark soil, shrugs. "The Sea... it's very beautiful," he starts.

"You said you've never been to the Sea!"

"I didn't lie," Jongdae chuckles. "It's just... over there." He points to the west. "Behind the peak. On that saddle over there we are so far up that we can see the shore, and what's beyond that."

"How is it?" Curiosity is getting the best of Minseok. He puts the basket down and uses his wrist to push his hair away from his face.

Jongdae laughs. His laughter is light, airy, heartfelt. "You can see it for yourself. That's why I'm telling you! Do you want to go?"

A few days ago, Minseok's first instinct would have been to think the other wanted to climb higher just to throw him off of it to get rid of the nuisance. But today's Minseok sees the excited glint in the other's eyes.

"But how is it?"

"Big, and blue."

"That much I already knew!" Minseok protests, and Jongdae laughs again. He bends to pick up the basket Minseok had left on the ground and moves to go back inside. 

The midday sun was starting to feel heavy on their skins. Minseok’s face is a little tanned, after his weeks spent climbing the mountain, and he keeps reddening whenever they’re out in the sun like that, but Jongdae looks like the sun cannot harm him. He said he can’t catch a cold from the rain, he probably can’t get sunburned, either. Very convenient, since it hasn't rained at all since the time Jongdae ran off in the rain and came back with his thoughts sorted and the prettiest blush on his cheeks.

"Wait, let me — it's heavy."

Jongdae stops in his tracks and glances at the basket, then he stares back at Minseok. The wind ruffles his hair. "What do you take me for? Who do you think carries my baskets when I'm alone?"

For a second, Minseok feels almost grateful that the other took offence in his offer instead of seeing the flirt. Then a voice in the back of his head tells him that he needs to be less subtle if he wants things to go according to the wisemen’s orders. He almost has to physically shake his head to focus on the present.

"I was... just trying to be nice. Of course I know you can. Carry it. Uh — "

"And I was just joking," Jongdae says. He keeps staring for a second. Then he clicks his tongue. "Between the two of us, you're behaving like the one who didn't have any social interaction in a while."

Minseok is sure he's blushing.

Jongdae laughs again. "But thank you. For trying to be nice. That's kinda what I was trying to do as well, since you've been picking the veggies that went in the basket so it was technically yours."

Laughing, Minseok shakes his hair out of his face. "We're terrible, aren't we."

"We're lucky there's no one around to see us," Jongdae jokes. He reaches out to do something, for a second Minseok fancies thinking he was about to brush his hair back again, but instead Jongdae pats his arm, his palm lingering on his shoulder for maybe a second longer than necessary.

Yeah. They're lucky. Baekhyun, ever so perceptive despite his young age, would tease Minseok for behaving weirdly. Yixing would be silently shaking his head, a dimpled smile saying more than words. The community would frown at them. The wisemen would be chiding Minseok night and day, telling him to hurry up.

A pang in his heart reminds him that he shouldn't hurry just because someone in the Council is fretting; people are dying. And it's Minseok's responsibility to stop it.

That's what pushes him to lightly put his own hand over Jongdae's.

He's acting on someone else's orders, but the butterflies in his stomach are pretty much his own.

His cheeks are hot, but there's a gentle zephyr cooling them down now.

The shape of Jongdae's eyes is so endearing when he looks flustered.

-

The doe keeps browsing on the light green of the fresh grass on the border of the clearing. Her long paws stomp a little when they hit the ground, but her movements are ever so graceful. She lifts her head when Minseok moves to the window, and she looks around sniffing the air because his foreign scent must be disturbing her.

She's majestic, even without the antlers males usually sport. Her eyes are dark and intelligent. She's gentle.

Minseok doesn't move, doesn't even breathe. The breeze is moving towards him now, so she cannot perceive him anymore and she goes back to her meal.

Without losing sight of her, he bends down to put a hand on his backpack. He hasn't seen a deer up close in years. He hasn't tasted one in at least a decade; they were among the first animals to flee the Plains when the drought started.

He's a man of the Plains and his first instinct is to hunt. Years of scarceness educated him, the people around him insisted that you must take everything now before you are left with nothing. And he obeyed, because he needed to feed his parents, and his sister, and his sister’s kids.

But killing something this beautiful seems worse of a crime than letting his family skip a few meals.

"She's not for us to take."

Minseok jumps at the sound of Jongdae's voice, close to his ear. He turns. Jongdae is standing so close to him that his chest is almost touching his back. He's barefoot as usual, that's why he didn't hear him approach him, and he's visibly just woken up.

Jongdae sustains his gaze, waiting, then he lowers his eyes to the bags in Minseok's hands. "She's not for us to take, Minseok," he repeats with the exact same tone. Patient, and wise. But at the same time like an order.

"I..." Minseok pathetically starts. He can't think. He doesn't know why the other is saying that, and why he must say that while standing so close to him, and why his own thoughts are spiralling out of control. "I wouldn't have — "

Jongdae smiles and nods. "Good."

_ I wouldn't have killed her because she's beautiful. _

_ Then why am I ready to destroy you, when you're so precious? _

The weather's master looks outside, his curly lips still stretched in a faint and peaceful smile. He closes the window and looks at the sky, grey and blue with the morning hues. Then he turns back to Minseok. "You should go back to bed, it's still early," he suggests gently, not at all fazed by Minseok's dumbstruck state.

Minseok can't help but nod and obey, sitting under the covers. His body relaxes automatically when it comes in contact with the still warm bedding.

Jongdae hesitates, looking at him with something akin to sweet indulgence. There's a light in his eyes that burns quietly, as if it had been lit a hundred, a thousand, a million years ago. But there are no wrinkles around Jongdae's eyes, his skin is smooth and unblemished, fresh like the first, greenest leaves in spring. Minseok is sure it's soft. He doesn't dare to touch it.

Jongdae walks back to his room without a sound. The sunrise tinges the sky with pink and orange, and Minseok gets to see it from his bed. The clouds let themselves be painted with the colors of the dawning day, and then they float away, indifferent to the spectacle they have become. Just like every other day. Like a hundred, a thousand, a million other serene dawns.

Minseok doesn't sleep.

-

“We're almost there.” Jongdae grins. “The sun is high in the sky, you should put your hat on otherwise you'll get burned like you were when you first got here. Be mindful of your scratch.”

Minseok reaches back for the hat that was resting on his back, the strap secured around his neck. He prods at the faded spot where he hit his head on their first encounter, but it doesn’t bother him anymore. “Is it just me or is the sun harsher here?”

Jongdae walks briskly past him, green weeds reaching up to his waist and parting around him as if they were dancing. “No, you're right. The sun is hotter and the air is thinner. It's the altitude.”

Minseok stops and looks at the sky, adjusting the wide-brimmed straw hat he found in Jongdae’s home. It's not a garment of the Plains, that much is sure. It has definitely been designed by the Sea people. “The weather is amazing today. Are you really that happy to see the Sea?”

Jongdae stops in his tracks. “What are you doing?” he asks.

Confused, Minseok tilts his head. “What?”

Jongdae walks back to him. “What are you doing? Why are you linking the weather to my mood?”

Dumbfounded, Minseok blinks. “I — isn't it — ”

“No, it isn't.”

Minseok realises he's not squinting anymore. Because the sun has been covered by a small, fluffy cloud, and the rays are less unforgiving.

And that’s on him. 

“I’m sorry.”

Jongdae looks up and exhales. “No, I’m — it’s fine,” he stutters. “It — well, it  _ does  _ mean I’m in a good mood.”

“Oh.” Minseok scratches his head clumsily because he forgot he was wearing a hat and he almost knocks it off. “So, uh, what’s the issue?”

Jongdae stares at his feet. “I thought you’d be mad at me. It was better if you didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“For what I did to the Plains.”

Minseok opens his mouth, only to close it. “I thought you said you’re not in charge of the Plains anymore.”

The younger nods. “I abandoned the Plains. I bound myself to the Sea people.”

“Only because  _ we  _ abandoned  _ you!” _ Minseok raises his voice. 

The other is not listening to him. “And since you know I’m happy when it’s sunny, you must have thought I was oh-so happy all the time seeing you  _ die! _ ”

Ever so punctual, Minseok’s memory presents him with the picture of a dimly lit bedroom, the sun filtering through the shutters painting harsh blades of light on the floor. Baekhyun sitting on the floor, one of those blades landing across his figure. Minseok picking him up and holding him tight, stepping away from the midday lights. Baekhyun sniffles, a horse neighs.

“It’s —not like that, I promise.”

Jongdae stares ahead of himself, shaking his head. 

“Jongdae—”

“We’re almost there,” the other hurriedly says, and scampers off. 

Minseok wordlessly closes the hems of his jacket closer to his neck to protect himself from the chilling breeze that has suddenly picked up.

He struggles to keep up with Jongdae’s pace and when they finally cross the passage between the twin boulders, he finds him sitting with his back against a rock, staring up at the peaks enveloped by clouds. Something suggests that he’s been there quite a lot of times before. Probably waiting for his friends from the Sea, hoping they would come back soon and alleviate his loneliness, his feeling of never belonging anywhere, the lack of kin. 

Minseok simply stares at Jongdae, until the other raises his head. “It’s over there.”

Minseok looks in the direction the younger is pointing at, but he sees only the descending slopes of the mountain they’re on, green and rich and voluptuous like the luscious creases and tails of the immense, glorious gown Mother Nature herself would wear. 

Further than that a spectacle of verdant fecundity, which stirs all kinds of nostalgia and even envy in Minseok as a man of the Plains, who witnessed the withering of his land, and admiration and amazement in Minseok as a living being susceptible to beauty.

Yes. The fact that he’s susceptible to beauty is definitely the reason why he’s staring at Jongdae instead of trying to see what’s beyond the mountain they’re standing on, audience of the concerts of the wind through the peaks and of the show of the swirling clouds. 

“I can’t see anything,” he says when he can finally tear his eyes away from Jongdae.

Jongdae clears his throat. “I guess the Sea’s weather mistress is not in the best of moods, we need to wait until the fog clears out. It’s not going to take long, her mood changes quickly.”

Minseok wonders how many hours Jongdae has spent up there, looking down at the second group of people who rejected him. Wondering if there could have been anything he could have done to prevent this from happening, studying the mood of the newborn weather’s master. Sad because she unconsciously drove away the only people he could call friends and his only comfort, but perhaps happy because he was not the last of his kind. 

It’s jarring, how he was left alone once she was born, but perhaps ended up feeling a bit less lonely.

Jongdae nervously looks at him, seemingly wondering why Minseok is so silent. “It’s because, she—she’s a baby, you know? She cannot control herself. Well, no one can really control their moods, but. I guess mankind found someone even more unstable than I am.” He chuckles dryly. “Hooray.”

Minseok keeps staring at him. When something cold and wet hits his face, he raises his eyes and finds out that grey clouds are rapidly pooling above their heads, smoothly pouring and dribbling from the peak as if they were liquid. 

A second raindrop, on his cheek. Then a third, on his arm. Minseok scoots closer to Jongdae and, without a thought, hugs him tight. 

A peremptory rumble makes itself heard somewhere far, but Jongdae doesn’t reject the contact, linking his own arms behind Minseok’s back and pressing his face to his shoulder. 

“And I hate this—I hate that everyone has a key to  my feelings and there’s nothing I can do about that. You —I never know what you’re thinking, while you can read me like an open book. It’s disquieting. And you know immediately how pathetic I am.”

“Stop saying nonsense.” Minseok swallows hard. More drops of rain hit him on the nape, on his back, just as he feels Jongdae’s tears seep through his shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” the weather’s master sobs. “I’m so sorry. I am a mess, and I am so lonely.” He raises his head. “Minseok, I’m so lonely, but I swear it’s not the reason why I keep you around. I swear.”

Confused, Minseok parts his lips to say something, but his mind thankfully works faster and he stops. 

_ Oh. _

Jongdae’s face crumples in a sob. “And we came here to see the Sea and now you can’t even see beyond this ring of stones—”

“Will you stop worrying?”

“Is this—” Jongdae’s hands nervously pat Minseok’s arms, which are still wrapped around himself. “Is this pity? Please—please tell me it’s not.”

Minseok slowly shakes his head, his eyes never leaving the troubled ones of the other.

_ Jongdae, you feel too much. I’m going to hurt you too much. _

Jongdae burrows in the embrace, hiding from the same meteorological events he had provoked, and calms down slowly.

No more rain bothers them. After maybe half an hour, warmth on his back lets Minseok know that the sun is out again. He exhales in relief, opening his eyes to see the light reflected on Jongdae’s raven hair. 

He smiles.

-

“Minseok!” Jongdae runs in his direction. Now the sky is of the purest of blues, shining behind him like a canvas of lapis lazuli, perfect for the colour of his skin. Like a diamond, Jongdae’s smile lets Minseok know something special is happening.

“Wake up, Minseok!” Jongdae exclaims when he reaches him. “She’s happy again, and now we can see the Sea!”

Scrambling to his feet, Minseok instinctively takes the hand Jongdae is offering and follows him back to the passageway, careful not to tumble over stones and small bushes, staring at the butterflies resting on the mountain flowers, unable to fly because their wings are sprayed with droplets of water—with Jongdae’s previous tears. 

For a second, when Jongdae stops and turns to smile at Minseok, the latter thinks that’s it, there’s nothing better the view could offer. But Jongdae pats his chest and then points at the horizon, and—

There are two skies in front of Minseok. The one above, and the one below.

_ What. _

“Impossible.”

Jongdae squeals, delighted. “I told you it’s amazing!”

Also amazing, the way their hands are still squeezed together.

“It’s... huge.”

“I know, right?”

Minseok’s mouth is wide open.

“Look,” Jongdae urges him to pay attention and points his finger. “See that city down there? That’s their capital. There is the port, and all those little white things you see in the Sea? Those are the ships.”

“The ships?”

“Yes. Have you ever seen a vessel?”

“How could I? I’ve never left the Plains in my whole life!”

Jongdae chuckles. “Incorrect. You’re here now, on the Mountain. You’re not on the Plains anymore. Maybe one day you’ll go to the Sea, then you’ll have seen all there is to see!”

“What about the Desert?”

Scoffing, Jongdae shakes his head. “Mother is not in the Desert, therefore the Desert doesn’t count.”

Minseok can’t help but think that the Plains are slowly turning into a desert themselves. Because Jongdae isn’t there. And Mother can be there only through Jongdae.

And Minseok is supposed to... bring Mother’s attention back to his land? Through Jongdae’s heartbreak?

He shakes himself. “Maybe one day, yes.”

Jongdae is all enthusiasm. “So. You know—wait, I never asked, which part of the Plains are you from?”

“I grew up near the lake.”

The lake that is now a mere tree-free brown-ish depression whose bottom is crinkled like a centenarian’s expression.

“Perfect! So you know what rowing boats are like,” Jongdae urges on.

“Yes?”

“Imagine them bigger, much bigger. And without oars. And with huge sails. Like huge squares of fabric hanging from, huh, trees. That’s a ship.”

Minseok laughs. “That doesn’t make any sense, Jongdae. How can a boat move without oars? How can it not sink if it carries whole trees?”

“Because of the wind!” Jongdae gushes. “Mother is generous like that!”

Suspended between incredulity and the sheer excitement Jongdae is able to transmit, Minseok listens to this and many more explanations about a world he seems to know very well despite never having seen it with his own eyes. 

“Are your friends down there, too?” Minseok asks, pointing at the capital.

“Yes. They live near the port.”

Minseok looks at the port, the large cove busy with large boats—ships. “And where does the mistress live?”

Jongdae’s smile doesn’t fade. “I have no idea. But somewhere, down there.”

The walk home is mostly silent, although relaxed. 

“Jongdae?”

“Yes?”

“Do you ever... watch the Plains from above? Like you watch the Sea?”

Jongdae sighs. “I can’t get high enough to get a view on the Plains, so no. The mountainside on the Sea side is much steeper. Sometimes I walk down the slopes towards the Plains, but they wane so gently into hills that I can’t really see much. And I can’t get to the hills.”

“Why?”

“I was banished, in case you forgot. If they found me, they’d kill me.”

Minseok stops. “What?”

“Yes, those were my orders. According to them, the spot where I found you was already out of my safe zone. So I guess it’s a good thing that you were unconscious when I carried you home, so you can’t locate that place again and rat me out to the Authorities,” he chuckles drily.

“Jongdae.”

Jongdae finally stops and turns around to look at him, hitching his shoulder straps higher.

“When you saw me in that riverbed, did you think I was about to hurt you?”

“I don’t know,” Jongdae says, and it sounds like a question. “I mean, I was not supposed to be there and you were the first person whose steps I had heard on the wind in a long time. I probably shouldn’t have walked down to check.”

“You heard... what?”

“And then you spotted me and I got scared,” Jongdae admits.

More confused than ever, Minseok squints. “Did you hit me with that lightning on purpose?”

Jongdae laughs. “I can’t do anything like that, Minseok. That’s funny. Mother decides where to strike, I don’t.”

And he keeps on walking, mirth in his skipping steps.

Stumbling a little and blinking furiously, trying to put his thoughts in line, Minseok follows him quietly.

It’s all so pregnant of various meanings. At least there is some good news: Jongdae can’t zap him on purpose when Minseok ends up hurting him.

But Mother can. Maybe she already knew Minseok’s purpose and had tried to eliminate the threat that very first day.

She missed her target by very little. Minseok shivers and touches his head.

-

The rain is harsh against the frail, thin glass of the window behind Minseok’s head. At first he thinks he’s dreaming it, he thinks he has gone back to the moment when Jongdae’s lightning hit the ground he was standing on. He turns on his side, but instead of wet soil, he’s met with a soft pillow, a cover that smells of himself and of something unfamiliar. Something—else... 

Reluctantly, he opens one eye. Another blast of wind pushes more rain against the window, and in the light brought by a new lightning he can see the treetops waving the same way Jongdae had mimicked graceful vessels on the crest of the waves, a fascinating description, if a second-hand one. The grass in the clearing flattens and billows, bent to the will of the weather, whose master is resting in the other room.

_ Wait. _

Minseok sits up. 

He’s in the weather master’s realm now. Which means, whatever show of disruption in the calm of the night is to be linked directly to a stress that Jongdae is experiencing. 

The floor is cold under Minseok’s feet.

“Jongdae?”

Jongdae doesn’t answer. Minseok figures he cannot hear him over the rumble of the thunder and the whistling of the blustery wind on the roof. 

He reluctantly wanders in the direction of the door that leads to the room where Jongdae is resting, and calls again.

Again, no one answers. 

Maybe he left. Or maybe he wants to be left alone.

Minseok jumps high in the air when the smashing bellow of thunder, close, above his head, makes itself heard. It sounds like the peaks themselves are crumbling around them. There’s static in the air, and Minseok is scared.

He flinches again when the door behind himself bolts open and a chilling gale invades the room. Struggling against the air, wincing at the cutting rain and the leaves that hit his body, Minseok runs to push it closed. 

Panting, he goes back to that closed door. “Jongdae! Please, what’s going on?” He knocks.

In the end, he pushes it open. He has never seen that part of the house before and he had tried not to spy inside on the numerous occasions when he passed by the window, from the outside, and even if he wanted to do it now it would be hard considering the fact that the only source of lighting is the sky’s electricity. Fast, continuous, but so burning it leaves the space darker than it was before it illuminated it. 

Out of instinct, Minseok runs to close the window that has been busted open as well. He turns around, trying to distinguish something else, but luckily it’s not hard to see Jongdae’s figure curled on the bed. 

“Jongdae... are you feeling unwell? Are you awake?” Minseok cautiously steps forward, hands aloft. 

The display of power Jongdae’s emotions are unleashing right now is impressive and it scares him, and he knows one day he will be the one causing it. He carefully tucks away the thought for future reasoning.

He touches Jongdae’s shoulder. 

With one last crack, lightning hits a tree somewhere far away. 

And then they’re immersed in the soothing darkness, surrounded by dreadful sounds. 

It’s hard to make out something over the howling of the wind and the pouring rain, but Minseok can faintly hear the rustling of Jongdae’s sheets and a gasp. 

His eyes are slow to adjust to the darkness, so he doesn’t know whether the other has woken up or not. If he simply turned around, using the contact to divert from his current nightmare. He considers leaving, and he has just braced himself to stand up and do just that when:

“Minseok?”

Minseok’s heart beats impossibly fast. “Yeah?”

“Are you all right?”

Confused and a little in disbelief, Minseok clears his throat. “Are—are you?”

He starts to make out something in the darkness. The glistening in the other’s eyes, the profile of his damp cheekbones. 

“I guess not?”

Minseok still considers leaving. He does stand up, but he sits on the edge of the bed instead. “You—”

Some fumbling on the sheets, then a cold hand wraps around Minseok’s wrist. “Minseok.”

Minseok waits. 

He listens to the sound of Jongdae’s breaths evening out, he watches as his eyes get used to the darkness and takes in the younger’s sleeping form.

He doesn’t leave.

-

The sky is grey and overcast the next morning when Minseok wakes up. He can barely see it from the frame of the window. Which is weird, since the bed he usually sleeps in is so close to the window that he can blink at a large portion of the clouded sky. On this side, the slope of the summit cuts most of his line of vision.

He sits up with a full body flinch.

This is not the bed he usually sleeps in. 

“Nightmare?”

He flinches again. Jongdae is sitting on the opposite corner of the bed, quietly reading a book. A blanket is draped over his shoulders and around his body, which is weird because Jongdae can’t feel the cold.

Jongdae doesn’t lift his head to look at him as he speaks, but Minseok has long moved past the stage where he thinks the other hates him. He’s simply nervous. 

“What? I mean—I think I should be the one to ask?”

Jongdae burns holes in the page of the book he’s obstinately staring at. “Well. You already know the answer, I suppose. With you it is a little harder to tell, since you don’t accidentally strike trees in your sleep when a dream upsets you.”

Minseok doesn’t know why he’s almost panting. He glances outside the window; he can see few branches on the clearing, leaves carried around by the winds. 

Then he looks at the dull grey of the sky. “Are you all right now?” he asks.

Jongdae closes his book, but stares at his own lap. “Yes. Thank you.”

“You can talk to me.”

“This is exactly the lack of freedom I hate. You can tell how I feel from the colour of the sky.”

Minseok glances at the window, regretting it when Jongdae huffs. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk. You have the right to keep stuff to yourself, the fact that you’re the weather’s master—”

Jongdae scoffs. “I am not. The weather’s master. Not more than you’re your own emotions’ master. I am not the sky’s or the earth’s master, I don’t have power over myself, I am not even the master of my own destiny because too many people depend on it.” He shakes his head and looks at the ceiling. “I am no master. So stop calling me that.”

Minseok can’t breathe. He blinks. “I understand. I am sorry.”

Jongdae closes his eyes, the back of his head hits the wall. “I never asked for this.”

“I know. It’s unfair that all of this has to happen—”

“‘To me?' Because I don’t deserve it? Keep the pleasantries, Minseok.”

“I wasn’t going to say that. I meant... imagine if there was a way to untie the weathers from the human kind,” Minseok says softly, eyes unfocused as he tries to imagine it. “Imagine if the blame of what happens during a season didn’t have to fall on a single person’s shoulders.”

Jongdae frowns. “What are you suggesting? The fact that a person can manage the sky is exactly what prevents any faults. You can just go and, I don’t know, cheer that person up if you see that the rivers are about to overflow or you can upset that person if the flowers on your balcony start to wither. It’s so much simpler like this.”

Minseok remains frozen in his spot. Jongdae is not looking at him, so he cannot see how the blood has drained from his face and he’s clenching his hands in his lap. 

Jongdae has never been so close to the truth.

But then Jongdae only shrugs. “It’s so much simpler, don’t you get it? It’s a little unfair because those individuals are just toyed with for their entire lives.”

“Don’t you find it unfair?” Minseok’s voice is strangled.

Jongdae turns to him, looks at his expression. He smiles, and scoots closer. “I do, Minseok,” he says softly, sweetly. He takes one of Minseok’s hands in his. “But it’s all right, I promise. People like me can feel the pulse of life. We fly on the wings of our Mother, and we flow under the skin of the earth, without ever leaving our places. I still think it’s a lonely existence, and many things can be unfair. But I still consider myself privileged.”

Minseok wonders how it’s possible that Jongdae doesn’t read the truth in his eyes at this moment. He can’t believe Jongdae only leans in to wipe away the tear that escapes Minseok’s eyes, without smelling his guilt, without his skin being burned by the venom of the lies that just erupted from Minseok’s eye. 

“Jongdae.”

“Don’t cry, Minseok. I promise I am not sad. I might complain a lot, have bad dreams and feel the need to cry every now and then, and feel alone at times and need a lot of reassurance, but I wouldn’t exchange my life with anyone else’s.”

Minseok closes his eyes. He can’t even look at him without feeling his heart crumple in his chest. He’s starting to wish to be hit by lightning a little too often, lately. That must not be healthy.

“Besides,” Jongdae continues, squeezing his hand. “I am a free man now, am I right? I am not bound to any people. My absence may be causing great suffering to our people, but it’s not something  _ I _ chose. It’s not something  _ I _ can fix. And now I can’t be toyed with anymore. So cheer up, Minseok. I am free, I am with Mother, and I have you here keeping me company, feeling so much, crying for me. I am probably the luckiest person of all lands, I just need to realise it.”

_ I am the biggest disgrace that could fall upon you. Your luck is going to run out soon.  _

Minseok squeezes Jongdae’s fingers between his, staring at the sun-kissed skin of the boy against his. He doesn’t answer. He’s not sure he wouldn’t start wailing in agony if he opened his mouth.

-

The pigeon arrives the next day in the afternoon, while Jongdae is in the forest collecting mushrooms.

Minseok doesn’t try to get to the winged animal, unsure of the recipient of the message. Jongdae has mentioned the Sea people contacting him through pigeons, so he doesn’t want to snoop around.

But the pigeon follows him around the house, so Minseok carefully checks his surroundings before swiftly unlatching the leather capsule from the creature’s jesses and sending the pigeon in the air again. 

Communication through pigeons was not part of the pact with the wisemen. The winged creatures had been mentioned only as an emergency resource because they could blow Minseok’s cover. When he left, he had very few but very precise instructions, and the order was to follow these and go back only once he was done. Find the weather’s master, make the weather’s master fall in love with him, break the heart of the weather’s master. Leave the weather’s master. Report back to the Council, and finally get back his sister’s kids. Start a new life in a hopefully greener land.

Minseok allows himself to fantasize about a message that would call off the mission, that would just tell him to go back home since his services aren’t needed anymore. He allows himself to gloat at the perspective of not having to hurt Jongdae in any way.

Minseok almost runs inside the house. He can almost hear Baekhyun’s chuckles and Kyungsoo’s quiet “Uncle Minseok?” always followed by the request of a bedtime story. He can almost feel the burden lifted from his shoulders, the realisation that life on the Plains no longer depends on his talent as an actor and as a seducer and on his lack of conscience.

And then his imagination expands wider. He imagines a simple life with Jongdae, here, on the clearing. Maybe temporary, but longer than originally intended, and not threatened by the imminent task of ruining a life. He can see himself, years from now, wandering among peaks with Jongdae at his side, Baekhyun and Kyungsoo trotting in front of them.

He closes the door and sits down at the table. He’s so nervous he almost tears the cartouche. 

_ “Minseok, We hope this finds you well. As much as we had hoped you would accomplish your mission sooner, this evening there was water from the sky—” _

Minseok almost drops the piece of paper. He’s panting.

Rain. Rain at home. 

_ “—there was water from the sky, which We interpreted as you initiating a new bond to tie the Weather’s Master to our land. We are very pleased, though it was not enough. We command you to hold the position until the bond is strengthened and proper Rain will come. You are strictly forbidden from coming back to your land or revealing anything to the Master until further notice, or there will be repercussions. Do not hurt the Master yet, either physically or mentally, or there will be repercussions.” _

Minseok holds his breath. He unfolds the last piece of the letter, and he has to wipe his eyes upon finding the little scribbles that are supposed to be Baekhyun’s and Kyungsoo’s signatures. There’s a very little doodle of a cloud with a rainbow, Kyungsoo’s favourite thing to draw. Minseok would recognise it anywhere. 

His heart breaks. They’re no longer under Yixing’s affectionate care, the wisemen have them.

_ “We thank you for your service. Your People are grateful.” _ Reads the last line at the bottom.

He wipes his eyes and glances out of the window, in case Jongdae was coming back. He runs to Jongdae’s room, where he remembers seeing a pen and ink, and scribbles an affirmative response as fast as he can on the back of the message, at the top of the page. He uses a paper knife to pierce a hole on the bottom of the paper, to keep Baekhyun’s and Kyungsoo’s doodles. He doesn’t care that it’s just proof that the Wisemen have him in their pocket, using the kids like that to blackmail him into obedience, since it’s already obvious or else they wouldn’t be sending something like that. They must have used their authority over Yixing to take them away from him, they know Minseok has obeyed their orders for their safety, more than for the benefit of the rest of their people. 

He runs outside and he has to circle the house twice before he can find the pigeon, which tamely flies to the wooden bench near the door to allow his message to be secured in the capsule. 

Minseok takes the creature in his hands. “Fly safely,” he whispers. “Go home.”

He throws the pigeon in the air and the animal has barely managed to flap its wings to stabilise itself when Minseok hears a voice. 

“Why the hurry? What was that?”

Jongdae is standing at the border of the clearing, a basket full of mushrooms against his hip and a raised brow. 

Still now, Jongdae doesn’t look suspicious, just surprised. How much more damning evidence must Minseok provide?

Minseok wipes his tears again. He’s still so confused and frustrated by the message, he needs to be careful not to let anything slip. “Home,” he answers with a shaky voice. 

Jongdae briskly walks to him, dropping the basket on the bench to stretch his hands in his direction, unsure of how to deal with him. “Minseok? Is everything all right? Why are you crying?”

Minseok takes the paper with the doodles from his pocket and shows it to the other. Jongdae’s eyes go incredibly soft. He looks closely, a huge smile creeping on his lips. “Your sister’s kids?”

“Yeah,” Minseok manages to utter with a raspy voice. 

“They sent a pigeon? Aren’t those expensive?”

At least Minseok is a fast-thinker. “I told you they live with a friend of mine who’s wealthy. He sent me a letter to tell me they’re doing well and they, well, they sent this.”

Jongdae is perplexed, though. “How did they know where to find you? No one knows where I live, in the Plains.”

“The date on the letter was old. They probably tried to send it days ago and the pigeon searched ever since. They knew I was going to the Mountain.”

Jongdae chuckles. “A persistent animal,” he comments, amused. He gives Minseok’s paper back to his owner. “Did you already write an answer? You can’t have them to worry about you.”

“I wrote it on the back of their letter, I just kept this... I am sorry I borrowed your pen, but I couldn’t find your stash of paper…”

Jongdae dismisses it with a graceful hand gesture. “Stop worrying. Will you tell me why you keep crying?”

_ I won’t. _

Minseok simply feels new tears slipping from his closed eyelids, so a very worried Jongdae has to move the basket to the ground to make room for them to sit on the bench. “Minseok? Are they—they’re doing well, right? Are they healthy? You’re making me worry.”

So pure. So altruistic. Minseok cannot believe he dared to hope he could abandon the mission and care for Jongdae freely, to give him back just a little of the affection Jongdae seems to feel for the world even after he has been left behind by it. 

“They’re fine,” he sniffles. “Look. This... Kyungsoo drew it. See the K and the illegible writing here?”

Jongdae is elated. “I can see it. It’s a pretty drawing. And this is... Baekhyun? How old is he again? He already writes so well.”

“He’s good, right? He’s getting even better, look at this.” Minseok can’t help but mask the sob with a wet chuckle. And then, before he can stop himself: “I miss them so much.”

Jongdae stares at him for a long while as Minseok simply looks at the drawings. Minseok doesn’t exclude the possibility that he would sob aloud even without the extreme circumstances of their separation, but the fact that the letter had said roundly that Minseok has been exiled as much as Jongdae had been, far away from them until further notice, makes him want to run down the mountain slope then and there.

Because now... and the thought only begins to shape after the shock of seeing the kids’ drawings... Minseok succeeded; it rained. Now Jongdae is bound to the people of the Plain again. Through Minseok.

Thus Minseok has become the master of the weather’s master. 

The latter is rubbing soothing circles on his back, completely unaware of everything.

It probably was the plan of the wisemen all along, Minseok had just been too stupid to see it, too preoccupied with the perspective of being removed from his home for a task he was sure he was going to hate or was going to get him killed. He hadn’t thought of the bigger picture. He hadn’t suspected that the Council’s reticence was not a way to cover their ignorance and their unverified conjectures, rather than the will to keep Minseok in the dark about how much the wisemen actually knew about Jongdae and his Mother.

Of course the wisemen would want Minseok to be Jongdae’s master for a long time. Because if he broke his heart and left him, Jongdae could have either involuntarily destroyed the Plains out of desperation, or severed his bond again and they would have been back to square one.

Instead, the wisemen want Minseok to keep feeding Jongdae lies until a new weather’s master is born or another solution is found. They want him to domesticate Jongdae into a relationship, and they know Minseok won’t stand up to them or leave the Mountain because they have his nephews.

And as much as the idea of having to be with Jongdae for a period of time longer than what he suspected the mission would take is not unpleasing at all, he feels sick to his stomach at the idea of deceiving Jongdae forever and eventually abandoning him just like the Sea people had done once they found someone new. 

And he might be greedy, but he cannot accept that he has been forced to choose between a bond that is starting to form with this man, whatever its nature, and his family and his home, without actually having a choice.

“Minseok,” Jongdae calls softly after a long silence interrupted only by Minseok’s sniffles. “Why are you so sad?”

Minseok notices that there’s mistral wind ruffling their hair that wasn’t there before. Jongdae’s empathic nature was revealing itself once again. “I just didn’t expect to hear from them, that’s all,” he lies. “It all... comes rushing back, you know.”

Jongdae hums, squeezing his shoulder and scooting closer. 

The temperature drops a little; Minseok dreads whatever Jongdae is ruminating on. The latter bites his lips, blinking at the ground. 

“Minseok... if you miss them so much... you already found your rain,” he starts, hesitant and even fearful. “Why don’t you go back to them?”

And for a split second, Minseok forgets about the wisemen. He forgets about the drought, about Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, about the people of the Plains. He forgets about the reason behind his pathetic march upwards on the Mountain, and about his broken dreams he had to leave behind when the rain stopped coming and no one remembered who they were before they became splintered phantoms of themselves—before they became hungry.

He forgets about all of that, and knows the answer would be the same. “Because of you,” he whispers.

Jongdae blinks, his eyebrows slanting upwards. And neither of them remembers when they leaned so close, but Minseok suddenly can count all the lashes of Jongdae’s eyes and he can count all the questions in his gaze and if he wanted to, if he really wanted to, he could probably count all the dawns he could experience next to the man who flies on the wings of his Mother and flows under the skin of the Earth. 

Jongdae leans back. “I—”

His brown eyes widen in realisation. Somewhere at their right, after a flash of scorching light, the creaking of a tree falling and then the noise of the raw power of Mother surrounds them. 

The weather’s master flinches at the noise, one hand flying to hide his mouth. He scrabbles to stand up, head bowed. “Minseok…” 

Minseok takes his hand. “I know. Please stay here.”

And Jongdae allows himself to be drawn into an embrace and clutches Minseok’s clothes.

The clouds in the sky race as if in a frenzy, quicker than Minseok has ever seen them. The wind slowly turns to scirocco, a warm caress on their skin, its touch gentle like a Mother wiping their tears. 

It takes a while, but finally everything around them slows down and Minseok is sure there hasn’t been a truest moment ever since he got here, nothing more wholesome and sincere than this, than Jongdae’s chin on his shoulder, body pressed against his, his own face hidden in Jongdae’s neck, and the whisper of the leaves of the trees around them like a soothing lullaby.

And he wants to have this, to be honest to life, to Jongdae and to himself, for much longer than that. 

He basks in this moment as long as he can.

He wants to have this.

Minseok wants this. 

He wishes he could have it.

-

Minseok is outside, splitting wood for the fireplace, when the big, fluffy clouds that have danced in the sky over his head finally close onto one another and start spilling light drops of rain.

He looks up, curious, wondering what could be wrong.

After weeks, months of cohabitation, Minseok has started to learn to read into the weather to have a key to Jongdae’s emotions. He tries not to let Jongdae notice that whenever the latter is being a little difficult to understand (which doesn’t happen very often) he peeks at the sky, or closes his eyes to listen or feel the wind. But it helps, sometimes, so he keeps doing it. It helped when Jongdae had a nightmare, so maybe it can help now too.

Minseok stays rooted in place, hatchet in hand, letting the drizzle hit his face. The rain doesn’t pick up and he hasn’t heard a thunder, so it’s probably not because of something that happened all of a sudden.

He inhales deeply. He imagines how his people must be dancing in the streets under the rain, barefoot, half-naked, drunk with the sensation of something other than hot and dry. He imagines the men hurrying to direct the drains to irrigate the fields and setting up the cisterns. He imagines the kids stomping in the puddles and the mothers, for once, not reprimanding them, laughing and singing in groups as they finally have enough water to wash their clothes and linens, their arms in the water in the basins up to the elbows. Everyone’s faces must be looking up at the sky.

He wonders whether the wisemen are allowing Baekhyun and Kyungsoo to run under the sky.

“Jongdae?” Minseok calls, lowering the hatchet to place it against the wall and pushing the door open with the other hand.

“Yes?” Jongdae appears from the pantry, where he was supposedly digging out something for dinner. He said he had some black olives in jars with salt and lemon, something one of his friends from the Sea always made sure to bring. Minseok had said he had never seen a black olive, so Jongdae proposed he would find them and they could have them for dinner.

Minseok carefully steps out of his boots, placing them near the door. “Nothing, I just…”

Jongdae looks outside the window. “Oh. Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t be. Is everything all right?”

“Yes. I’m just having a mood without any good apparent reason.”

He doesn’t say it out loud, but Minseok understands. That’s what Jongdae had meant when he said he’s not his own feelings’ master; no one is, but Jongdae might fall prey to something that transcends their human comprehension. He has a role, and a responsibility. He’s the instrument in Mother’s hands, nothing more.

Now, in Minseok’s hands too. 

And Minseok is an instrument in the Council’s hands.

Minseok tries to forget that when he walks in to hug Jongdae, and Jongdae exhales over his shoulder. 

-

Minseok loves the cold. He loves it especially because lately he, along with all his people, has been deprived of anything remotely similar to it. 

So whenever he leaves Jongdae’s hut to walk the five minutes walk that separates him from the creek, with its natural pools and the constant murmur of water, he’s excited at the prospect of dipping in the cold water. It’s energising, and a part of himself that he actively ignores revels in those moments because he feels like he will need this pleasant memory when it will be over. 

Once every week, he and Jongdae go down to the brook together, carrying their clothes and all the things they need to wash. The rest of the time, they go alone, separately. 

Minseok loves the cold, but he’s not completely impervious to temperatures like Jongdae, so he can endure in the water only so much before he starts trembling and wishing for warmth and for the inestimable feeling of the sun rays seeping through his skin, or for the halo of the fire under his outstretched hands as he sits on the carpet.

Jongdae is a whole different story; once he stayed at the pools for so long, just floating and crooning happy songs to himself, that Minseok had actually gone to look for him, worried something might have happened. 

They had had a very awkward conversation shouting from behind bushes because Jongdae had been, well, naked, and Minseok didn’t want to accidentally see the weather’s master in the nude.

This time it looks like Minseok will be the semi-naked one, since the wind pushed his shirts into the water after he had put them in a precarious pile on a rock as he was bathing. 

“Trying to suntan?”

Minseok nearly jumps out of his skin. He hadn’t spotted Jongdae in the orchard as he tried to make his way around the house to reach the door. He hastily tries to unfurl the wet fabric in his hands to use it to cover his upper body, but Jongdae simply laughs at him. 

Never before had Minseok crossed the distance between the orchard and the front door so quickly.

Jongdae is still chuckling when he enters the house, a few minutes after him. He probably calculated the time so he wouldn’t make him uncomfortable. “Why would you hide? If I had a body half as good as yours, I wouldn’t,” he jokes, making Minseok’s skin flare up with warmth that had nothing to do with the post-bath walk. 

Seemingly unaware of the fact that he’s making Minseok blush all the way to the color purple, Jongdae’s eyes soften and he walks to him, putting down his basket with the fresh vegetables. “I’m glad to see you’re not as thin as you were when you first got here, Minseok. You looked like you were about to collapse if I didn’t get some food into you.”

Minseok attempts a wobbly smile.

Jongdae wipes his hands on his working trousers. “You still looked strong. What did you do on the Plains?”

Minseok clears his throat. “My job?”

“Yeah.”

There is nothing but objectivity in Jongdae’s tone. Minseok wishes there was some other kind of interest. Maybe there is, but the weather’s master is good at hiding it since he’s gotten used to being around people again. 

Minseok is so doomed.

“My parents owned the stables of our town,” he begins lowly, folding his clothes and taking the wet shirts in his hands to take them outside and hang them to the clothesline Jongdae had pinned with his help between the tree in the middle of the clearing and a pole near the orchard. Since there are two of them now, they needed more space for their things to dry. Jongdae had looked happy about the addition, hinting at Minseok’s presence as something long term. 

Minseok had felt happy too, but he couldn’t possibly dwell on that without feeling like the twine was closing around his neck instead of around the bough, punishing him for the lies he had told Jongdae, so he had briskly climbed the tree and hung the twine.

“Stables? You had horses?”

Minseok nods silently and goes outside, Jongdae quietly following him. “We had over thirty boxes and a round ring for training. We bred our own, but sometimes we traded or took in animals that needed training and domestication. Some cart horses and plough horses too.”

Jongdae makes an amazed sound. “You had thirty horses?”

Minseok smiles to himself as he hangs the clothes to the line. “Sometimes more. My parents, my sister and her husband, and my aunt’s husband and children, my friends Minhyung and Changmin, we all worked there, with some groomers and stable boys from the town.” He looks at Jongdae, a shadow of a smile on his face. “I loved it. My father used to sell the thoroughbred horses to Council members, nobles, and even people from abroad. Merchants from the Desert, and even someone headed to the Sea would stop by to look at our horses and deal in. They were beautiful, clever creatures. We treated them so well. They were starting to become famous.”

Jongdae whistles and he leans on the tree trunk. “Are they not famous anymore?”

Sighing, Minseok glances at him. He looks so good, the shadows of the leaves dancing on his face like that. He hates telling this, because it breaks his heart, and he knows it will break Jongdae’s heart too. “They are not... anymore. I don’t have any horses now.”

“What about your family and your friends?”

Minseok looks away. “My aunt and her family emigrated soon after the drought started, I haven’t heard of them since. My friend Minhyung had to leave to help his father, and Changmin took a beautiful wife and went to live with her at the borders, where the drought was less severe.”

“What about your parents and your sister?”

Smoothing the wet fabric with repetitive movements, Minseok swallows. “Why do you think I’m in charge of my sister’s kids?”

Jongdae pushes himself off the tree and then just stands there, unsure of himself. “I’m so sorry, Minseok.”

“It’s all right.” Minseok shrugs, uselessly smoothing the creases on the shirts, watching the little drops of water fall onto the grass. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“What happened to them?”

“My parents got sick. They went together, peacefully, a long time ago. My sister’s husband saw the business declining one day, and he took off. Maybe he did the right thing.”

He thinks back at all the horses he had sold, desperately, to try to put some food on the table for his sister’s kids. Went from lowering the prices to selling the creatures to anybody who ran into the stables and had a little money and needed a horse for any reason, eating it not the last of which. Anything to buy medicine for his sister, when the only medicine she needed was the end of the drought.

“My sister didn’t survive the first years of drought.” Minseok concludes, his mind’s eye focused on the dry, red earth of the ring in front of the stables.

Movement catches his attention and with supreme befuddlement Minseok looks down at Jongdae kneeling in front of him. “What are you—”

“Minseok,” Jongdae says with a voice small and quivering, at the same time as ancient. “I’m sorry.”

Maybe it’s dumb of Minseok to only now make the connection. Appalled at himself, he scrambles. “Jongdae, I’m not telling you because—”

“I don’t know why you’re telling me, but you just told me that I killed your sister,” Jongdae is rocking a little, his head bowed, his hands tangled in the grass. 

Minseok briefly looks up at the sky. It was the early afternoon, but it’s suddenly almost as dark as the sundown. He drops to his knees as well. “You did not, Jongdae!”

Jongdae shakes his head. Rain starts falling around them. “I did. I did this to you, to Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, and to many other families as well, who knows how many lives I ruined!”

“No!” Minseok almost yells. “No, that’s not true! You didn’t do anything!”

“I’ve always known, but hearing it from you... do you hate me?”

Minseok drags Jongdae upright and guides him under the roof of the house. “Jongdae,” he starts, through chattering teeth. Minseok loves the cold, but not when it’s brought by Jongdae’s sorrow. “I don’t hate you. I could never. You did not do this to her, to us!”

Jongdae looks at him desperately. “Who else?”

“It was the Council,” Minseok seethes. “If they didn’t banish you, you’d still be in charge of the Plains. But they chose to send you away because they didn’t understand you, and they did not make an effort to do it.”

“The Council?” Jongdae whispers. He seems confused. 

Minseok has never seen him cry, but when the first tears wet Jongdae’s cheeks he feels the air squeezed out of his own lungs. It’s a sight that shakes him to his very foundations and he cannot help it, he wipes the tears away with his own fingers. “The blame of  _ everything,” _ he chokes a little, “is on the Council. It’s on them, Dae.”

Jongdae flinches a little, but nods in the end.

Minseok wishes someone would comfort him in the same way, every once in a while. He’s so, so tired of feeling horrible for hiding the truth to Jongdae, he’s tired of being scared of Jongdae finding out he had been tasked to use him. They’re past the point of no return; Minseok had had the chance to be honest with Jongdae, and he ignored it because he had been selfish.

Minseok wishes someone would tell him it’s not his fault, it was just the Council, he had no choice than to behave the way he did. Which is technically true, but then why is it that Minseok feels so guilty whenever the weather’s master smiles at him in that charming way that seems to hold the sun itself?

“Jongdae, don’t do this to yourself. You said you spent a lot of time coming to terms with this. Grieving with your Mother. Finding your peace of mind. What is done is done. Don’t let what I told you out there ruin all of this. Are you listening to me?”

Jongdae nods, sobbing a little. 

“Don’t do this to yourself, Dae,” he hugs him tightly to his chest, trying to smother the pain out of him. “Please.”

The weather’s master inhales in little hiccups, but eventually he calms down. His sadness brings more showers, but no more thunder. His sorrow lacks turbulence this time, it’s so deeply rooted inside of him that Mother doesn’t flaunt any destruction on his part.

Minseok finds it ironic that Jongdae’s sadness is caused by the destiny of the Plains, but it’s actually restoring the Plains. This same rain is covering the land where Minseok grew up, finally providing relief after so many years. And Jongdae doesn’t even know.

If he was a good citizen and he listened to the Council, Minseok should make Jongdae cry more often.

He’s unable to.

It is appalling, to feel the icy rain on his skin and knowing he is the cause.

“Do you think it’s stupid, that I feel like this about something that was outside of my control?” Jongdae asks, a while later, as they sit next to each other on his bed, looking outside. He leans his head against Minseok’s shoulder.

“No.”

“I wish to apologise anyway.”

Minseok sighs and turns to look at him.

“The only thing you should apologise for is wetting my shirts again.” He points at the clothesline where Minseok’s blouses hang limp and soaked.

Jongdae chuckles, and despite being heavy with rain the shirts move a little, swinging in the breeze.

Minseok can’t help but pull him close for a second, squeezing his shoulders, before attempting a smile. “I’ll go cook something. You stay here.”

He has almost reached the door when Jongdae tears his eyes away from the window and turns around, adjusting on the mattress. “Minseok.”

“Yes?”

“She’s your Mother, too,” he says softly, his lip curls a little more pronounced.

“Huh?”

“You said. You said I came to terms with this with my Mother,” Jongdae repeats, his brows tilting as he seems perplexed. He frowns, then he looks up at Minseok. “She’s your Mother, too.”

Swallowing, Minseok smiles and nods. 

In the other room, he stares at an empty pot between his palms on the counter for a while. 

_ Even if I were her son, she would kill me for what I’m doing to her favored child. _

-

Sometimes Minseok has dreams, at night, in which he hears the sound of hoofbeats on the solid, red earth in the ring of his parents’ barn. 

It happens so often that Minseok welcomes the feelings brought by the dreams with an open and glad mind. The dreams are so vivid he can almost feel under the soles of his leather boots the compact texture of the trampled earth of the barn. He can almost feel under his fingertips the raw power of the horses, the warmth of their fur, the feeling of being at the mercy of something bigger that can obey you if you hold that power back the right way. He can feel the bridles slipping in his palm, cutting it open, and then it all stops and he has reined the creatures in. 

Those were beautiful dreams, when he was in the Plains. Nostalgic, but never unwelcome. 

Now he hates them, because he’s guilty of wanting to bridle something meant to be free. Being a horseman and being a master don’t feel akin anymore.

However, today Minseok feels that the dream is different than usual and he opens his eyes.

Because it’s not a dream. 

He runs outside; Jongdae is not in sight and the sky is overcast. A brief glance at the door of his room reveals that it’s probably because he’s still asleep. 

Minseok runs around the house, the sound of hooves close and impatient. For a second he still thinks he’s dreaming it, but then there are voices.

He stops and listens before he can round the corner to the back of the house. 

“What if he’s not here anymore?” someone asks with a whine.

“No. It looks like the house and the garden are cared for. If he left, it wouldn’t be since more than three, four days,” a light voice answers calmly.

“Why would he leave?” Now someone with a very deep voice asks with concern.

“Why are you assuming that he left? Maybe he’s just asleep?” a proposition from a fourth voice, which doesn’t sound very sure of himself.

“Don’t be silly, Se Hun. You know he can hear us before we can even straddle the mountain pass. He always greets us when he hears us come!” 

Minseok blinks. Something rings in his mind. While the four men on the other side of the house continue bickering, in a crescendo of worry and frustration, he tries to remember where he heard the name Se Hun. 

Then, the vivid image of Jongdae’s glinting eyes looking from under a curtain of wet bangs, as he explains to him that the only time he caught a cold it was because of his friend Se Hun from the Sea.

And this man just mentioned Jongdae  _ hearing  _ them. Now, Minseok might still be confused whenever Jongdae mentions his ability to hear things that he’s not supposed to hear, but the fact that the intruders are making references to this peculiar talent of his says a lot.

He carefully leans to his left to peek around the corner. 

There are, as he predicted, six horses pawing the ground in the clearing behind the vegetable garden. Only four of them bear a horseman; and those men are nothing like Minseok has ever seen before. 

Their skin is darker than his, similar to how some men look after being for weeks under the sun, but with a sort of golden glint to it. Their hair is of various shades of blond, light and fluffy, dishevelled as if they rode all the way without wearing a hat to protect themselves from the elements. They are wearing clothes of all the shades of blue and grey that Minseok has ever seen, and even some he has never seen before, and their bare arms are covered with tattoos of black ink from the wrists to the shoulders.

He has never seen anyone like it before, but he knows he’s about to meet the Sea people. 

One of the men is straddling the biggest horse Minseok has ever seen, a beautiful dark bay coated creature, and the dimension of the stallion probably depends on the fact that the man is of remarkable height as well, if his long legs pushing the stirrups are of any indication. 

The man is gesticulating, his brows furrowed. His hair is almost white in the sun as he pushes it back on his head, visibly worried, and that’s when he scans the house again and freezes. 

Minseok has been spotted.

“We should leave, right now,” the smallest man of the group is saying, turning his red roan gelding around the other guys with regal posture and an authoritative tone of voice. “What if his people came back and took him away? We cannot be attacked and we cannot cause a political crisis, what if they’re still here, or they find us?” 

“Chan Yeol, what’s wrong?” a guy straddling a black piebald stallion asks, pushing his horse closer to his tall friend. 

Chan Yeol points to Minseok, grabbing the authoritative guy when he rides next to him. “We’ve already been found, Jun Myeon.”

Minseok’s first instinct is to hide behind the corner again, but it would be futile. He can feel four different gazes on himself now, and he knows the wisest thing he should have done was to go and wake up Jongdae before he even identified the intruders. 

So he bites the inside of his cheek and carefully walks in the open, keeping close to the wall. 

For a second, nothing happens.

Then, in a heartbeat, all four horses are spurred towards him and he cowers against the wall before they can hit him.

“Who are you? Where’s Chen?” they begin to yell, and Minseok wonders whether they’re looking for the wrong person until another memory surfaces.

_ “People from the Sea call me Chen, but you're from the Plains like me.” _

Minseok tries to make himself small, to avoid any accidental hoove to hit any part of his body. They might possess great horses, but they lack the ability to control them fully. 

“I don’t—”

“Answer!” The man called Jun Myeon orders.

“My name is Minseok, and—”

“Where’s Chen? What did you do to him?”

“He’s from the Plains,” the most taciturn of the men, Se Hun, leans over his chestnut roan and spits on the ground. “He’s his people. After all they did to him, they came here to bother him again.”

Minseok doesn’t even bother to feel offended. His people have been horrible to Jongdae from the very beginning, and his own presence in the clearing is nothing but yet more proof that the Plains are detrimental to the weather’s master. 

“Jongdae is—”

“Who’s Jongdae? We asked you a question!” The man whose name Minseok hasn’t caught yet jumps down from his black horse, one hand closed around the bridles and the other closed in a fist. A fist that Minseok has no doubt is about to connect with his own face. If his stallion’s hooves won’t reach it first, that is, since the creature seems already on edge because of the agitation.

Minseok raises his arms in surrender. They are all taller than him anyway, fighting wouldn’t help his case. “I believe you call Jongdae by the name Chen.”

Jun Myeon guides his gelding between the furious man and Minseok. “How are we supposed to believe you?”

Minseok crosses the man’s gaze. He seems the most reasonable of the group, since the others are currently either extremely angry or extremely scared. “Jongdae is the name of the weather’s master in the Plains. You’ve known him by the name Chen for reasons he never explained to me.”

“He knows he’s the weather’s master,” Chan Yeol whispers urgently. “What if they hurt him?”

“Why are you here?” Se Hun intervenes.

“I abandoned my home in the Plains during the drought because the situation was unbearable. I wandered on the Mountain’s hillsides until one day, I couldn’t walk anymore. Jongdae found me, I almost died.”

“Typical Chen,” Se Hun grumbles. “Too good for his own good. Jun Myeon,” he calls, louder. “We cannot trust him. What if it’s all a plot against Chen?”

“Can you prove what you’re saying?” Jun Myeon asks, while physically pushing the scary man back with a hand on his shoulder. 

“I can, if you let me get inside and wake Jongdae—Chen.”

“We cannot trust him,” the angry man repeats. “He’s from the Plains, they treated him like a shitstain all this time—”

“I know, Jong In—” Jun Myeon starts, but Minseok interrupts him again.

“Well, it’s not like you’ve treated him well either,” he spits out angrily. “You’ve used him when your own weather’s master died and as soon as another one was born in your land you discarded him like a piece of trash.”

“You watch what you say, you—” Jong In charges, letting go of his horse to push past Jun Myeon. 

“Wait!” Chan Yeol yells, jumping from his mount as well. None of them notices that the sky is getting darker, swelling and humming.

“Tell me I’m wrong then!” Minseok stops to shove away Jong In, who is caught and restrained again by Chan Yeol, who is indeed the tallest person Minseok has ever seen. “You left him here—without an answer or an explanation, for almost a year! Not even a goddamn letter to let him know you were sorry! He considered you his friends, he served your country even though you’re not his people, and all you could do was leave him here alone again! You left him alone to feel like he will never belong with anyone!”

“It was not our choice!” Se Hun protests, his horse pacing up and down in the back, his knuckles white around the saddle horn. 

“You were the first to cast him out,” Jun Myeon seethes, his immobility far more frightening than the others’ agitation. “Yours are very grave offences.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Minseok growls. “I was a kid when he was sent away, do you think I had any power over the decisions of the wisemen Council?”  _ Regrettably, I still don’t! _

“Just as we didn’t have a choice when our weather’s master was born!” Jong In defends, his hair swept to the side by a forceful wind. “We were given orders! We were controlled!”

“Then your damned orders were brutal! Did you fake your friendship just to get him to bond with your people? To use him?” Minseok’s voice is almost inaudible in the rumble of thunder.

Jong In raises his own voice. “Then what the hell are  _ you  _ doing here? You think we don’t know about your drought? Are you not going to use him as well?” 

Minseok reacts out of pure instinct. Not to defend his honour, but because Jong In just hit the mark, because he hates it as much as Jong In hates it, and much, much more. 

Jong In obviously sees his intention to attack, breaks free from Chan Yeol’s hold, and they meet halfway. Minseok manages to dodge Jongin’s fist and grabs him by the collar of his blue shirt, pulling it.

There is a second, when they are close like that, when Minseok is sure that Jong In reads the truth in his eyes. He sees his hurt, his guilt, and that’s what prompts the young Sea man to punch again.

The moment his knuckles hit Minseok’s ribcage, lightning hits the clearing. 

Under their feet, energy. In the air they are unable to breathe in for a second, energy. The electricity ties them together for a whole, eternal second, before it makes them all bounce against each other, away from each other. 

A hand pulls Minseok away from Jongin’s body. He collapses against Jongdae’s chest as the thunder fills their ears and they all scream, head buzzing, pins and needles in their fingertips.

Everything reduces to a loud whistle. 

With eyes that threaten to close, colours inverted, a little burned by the intense light, Minseok sees the horses rearing and the sky splintering with Jongdae’s rage. 

Se Hun’s body hits the ground when his roan unhorses him, Chan Yeol screams when his hooves hit him. The eyes of the creature are wide and crazed. Soon Jong In’s black stallion takes off in the clearing too, out of control.

Time seems to start flowing at its regular speed again when icy rain showers them all. 

“What are you doing?” Jongdae’s voice is a roar that can easily compete with the thunder that just shook their cores. 

No one answers, some too busy catching their breath, some too upset to even try. 

Jongdae manhandles Minseok until he’s hiding him behind himself, but not before looking at him with extreme anger. The pounding rain whips them cruelly when he turns around to stare at the people from the Sea. 

“How dare you!”

Jun Myeon is kneeling next to Se Hun, who hit his back on the ground and is now coughing, sputtering because of the impact and the rain. Chan Yeol is leaning heavily against Jong In. The latter points weakly at Minseok. “Chen, we—”

“Don’t say anything, Jong In,” Jongdae orders. “I heard you. How dare you accuse Minseok of such atrocity?” he seethes. His hand creeps back, looking for Minseok. “You know nothing about him. Who gives you all the right to come to my home and attack the first person who ever behaved with honesty toward me in my entire lifetime?”

_ Honesty, right. _

Minseok feels nothing but dead inside when Jongdae’s fingers twine with his.

“We—we behaved with honesty toward you, Chen! Always!” Se Hun coughs out.

“We were just concerned for you,” Jun Myeon tries to pacify. His wet hair clings to his face, the colour of the ash now that the sun is hidden behind impenetrable layers of rage. 

“We never meant to offend you, Chen,” Jong In looks dangerously close to tears. “Please believe me.”

“You and your people have history,” Jun Myeon explains, almost screaming to make himself heard over the weather. “They are in a drought, and suddenly they come back to claim you after our weather’s mistress was born. It just looked very suspicious to us, please forgive us—” 

“No one. Can claim. Me.”

Minseok is reminded that Jongdae might look shy, blush easily and laugh loudly, but he’s a force that shouldn’t be provoked.

There’s a curious sound in the air, hardly heard over the panicked neighing of Se Hun’s horse in the distance and all of their teeth, minus Jongdae’s, chattering. As if something solid started hitting the roof and the leaves. Minseok presumes it’s going to start hailing, and he hopes this can be resolved before the low ceiling of the sky starts discharging ice. It would ruin Jongdae’s orchard, he worked so hard on it, it would be a pity.

Jongdae turns to look at Minseok when he feels him shivering, and pulls his hand away from his. For maybe a second, Minseok imagines he can see the suspicion in his eyes, but it’s just a flash and he’s almost sure he imagined it because he  _ wanted  _ to see it there. He wanted Jongdae to finally see the truth and lash out at him before Minseok could fully break him. Maybe Minseok wants it to hail. He wants blizzards, and to stop feeling guilty all the time.

But Jongdae doesn’t send him anything but loyalty and reassurance before he turns around again. And Minseok feels like he could die buried under feet of snow and he would still feel less cold.

“No one can claim me. I don’t belong to anyone or anything in this world, except for Mother. Get that through your head.”

Jongdae moves to walk away, but then he stops. “These are my friends,” he says lowly, privately, only to Minseok. It sounds like an explanation, probably the only explanation Jongdae is willing to give him and the rest Minseok must figure out by himself. It also sounds like an order. To leave them be, probably.

He glances at the Sea people. “I never doubted your friendship, just as I never doubted his,” he says pointing at Minseok. “Stop insulting each other, since as you do so you insult  _ me.” _

And with that being said, he disappears in the thick rain, his pale green shirt clinging to his back as he becomes one with his forest and seeks solitude. 

-

Minseok breathes heavily in the rain, his head bowed. He can’t believe what just happened. He can’t believe he was so ready to fight to defend Jongdae, when he will be the one who will end up wronging him the most. He bends down, hands on his knees, thanking the rain on his face for hiding his tears. 

A hand on his shoulder makes him flinch. 

“I didn't mean to hurt you this much. I let the rage get the best of me.”

Minseok looks at Jong In’s face. He’s almost sure he’s not the only one trying to hide his tears. 

Another big hand helps him stand upright. Chan Yeol’s grin is stupidly big. “Minseok, am I right? Deep down, Jong In is all fluff. I guarantee if you proposed to punch his face to make things even between you, he wouldn’t even hesitate to agree to this arrangement.”

Minseok swallows. Are they serious?

They are. And they look so kind he almost wants to ask them for a few more punches. They probably wouldn’t deny him the favour, since they look so  _ kind. _

“I’m fine,” he settles for instead. He figures that if these men took Jongdae’s words as the signal to drop the hostilities, he should do so as well. “Did you get hurt when the gelding hit you?” he nods to Chan Yeol’s back. 

The other winces a little, but dismisses it quickly. “I fall down a lot, it’s nothing bad. Se Hun is all right too.”

Minseok sees Jun Myeon fretting over Se Hun, who is standing as well looking pretty serious as he works through the knots that hold the saddlebags on Jun Myeon’s horse together.

“You should unload your saddlebags before they get wet,” Minseok suggests, as if they weren’t all completely soaked already. “I’ll help you.”

“We can manage, no pressure,” Chan Yeol reassures him. “We used sail tarps to wrap our stuff, there won’t be any damage.”

Minseok doesn’t know what ‘sail tarps’ are, so he simply nods and steps back from their touch. He’s not used to the way they stand close to him, looking all friendly and at ease. In the Plains, only dear friends put their hands on each other’s shoulders. Here there is Jong In holding his arm right after punching him, looking as if he’s scared Minseok would faint.

He escapes their attention, wishing for Jongdae’s presence to make things less awkward. 

He decided it would be safe for his peace of mind (and his dignity) to look for refuge inside of the house, when he hears Jong In’s calls to his stallion, which is kicking and stomping at the edge of the clearing. The man cannot get close to him and he’s rightly scared to do so, since the horse rears twice every time his owner tries to get a hold of his bridle. If he continues like this the horse will surely run away, so Minseok decides to make himself useful.

“What’s his name?” he asks, raising his voice to be heard over the rain.

Jong In turns around, surprised. “Kai.”

Minseok walks next to him, eyes trained on the animal, both with the purpose of assessing the horse and to stop Jong In from trying again so soon. “He’s beautiful.”

“I’ve had him for barely a year. He almost never gives me issues. He’s great for long distances and rides, but he’s excitable. Sometimes I think I should’ve gotten a gelding instead, but they guaranteed he was well trained.”

Minseok tilts his head, watching as the stallion trots in the clearing, shaking his head. His eyes are wide, but he’s calming down.

“He looks like he is. They didn’t scam you.”

Jongin sputters. “I guess?”

“Will you let me mount him?”

More and more shocked, the other nods and grows restless when he sees that Minseok does not move immediately. 

Once Minseok is sure the creature has familiarised with his sight, he steps closer slowly, murmuring just above a whisper to be heard in the wind, calling his name, gaining his trust, his hands slowly rising. Kai kicks and neighs and runs in circles, but he always ends up within Minseok’s reach again. It takes him a while, but after various attempts he manages to hold the majestic stallion by the reins, then the bridle, then by the side of the saddle. He straddles him for just a minute, until the poor animal becomes less jumpy and stops swerving across the meadow. He continues talking to him, and he finally handles the creature back to his owner.

Jong In stares at him as if he has never seen a human being before. “Can I hire you?”

Minseok snorts.

-

Minseok is crouching in front of the fireplace, tending the fire in his fresh dry clothes, when they come in shouldering the saddlebags. He looks as they make a neat stack of their bags near the door and then go out again in orderly fashion, with something that reminds him of habitude. 

And he realises this place is their home more than it could ever be his, because these people and Jongdae have seen each other grow up. Jongdae had always been cryptic when talking about them, but they apparently used to spend long periods of time together. Since Jongdae never left the Mountain after he was exiled, the hut was probably the place that witnessed all their friendships.

Minseok has been there for just two months. As an impostor, nonetheless. 

The four are silent as they unload their horses and tie them outside, using the metal hooks lodged in the wall that Minseok had interrogated himself so many times about. They then take their things to change into dry clothes, blue again. They put their black laceless boots in a neat row against the wall. 

He sees them spy at Minseok’s bed, at his own backpack and shoes. He sees them wonder where he fits in the equation, why he’s in the cornerstone of Jongdae’s existence now. Minseok himself doesn’t know, at this point. 

He sees Se Hun struggle with a particularly heavy looking sack which appears to contain glass bottles and jars, so he puts down the stoker and walks up to him. “Give me that, you’re hurt.”

Se Hun doesn’t let go, his eyebrows furrowed.

Minseok stares up at him, unmoving.

“Let him help, Se Hun,” Chan Yeol calls out, his own arms full of sacks.

“He’s from the Plains,” Se Hun comments.

Minseok cocks a brow, but remains rooted in place otherwise. “All right. Listen. Whatever grudge you’re holding against my people, I’m not even going to try to convince you to let it go. Because, essentially, I cannot tell you my people are all perfect and honest and fair, because that would be a lie. Most of us are selfish and corrupt. The Wisemen Council of the Plains? If they were burning in a fire, I wouldn’t move a finger to save them. For Mother’s sake, I would probably throw more wood onto the pyre. So you can keep on spitting on  _ their  _ name as long as you would like to,”  _ and on mine, too,  _ “but not on the name of my people, of Jongdae’s people. Especially because as far as I’m concerned, you’re not any better.”

“Woah, there!” Jun Myeon steps closer. “I was about to give you a pass for your whole speech until you came for our people.”

Minseok looks at him. It’s reassuring to find out he’s not the smallest of those present. “Fine. Then convince me of the contrary. But I’ve seen Jongdae reading your letters from last year, I’ve seen the sky get heavy with rain whenever he mentions you. He cared about you and whatever is the reason behind you leaving him here feeling alone and miserable for ten months after you pledged your undying friendship to him, it doesn’t change the result.”

“It was not our choice. We were restrained,” Jong In says darkly. In the semi-darkness of the corner of the room, his eyes seem so heavy with unexpressed thoughts. “The Southern Merchants hold the power now, they forbade us to have contact. You think we didn’t try?”

Jun Myeon clears his throat. “They were scared our loyalty would put the powers of our weather’s mistress in danger. They were wrong, but it was proven only recently, and they didn’t want to take any risk.” He sighs, and puts his bag on the table, sitting on a chair. “Chen was not a fitting master for our land, either. He never held the Sea the way our land needed it. He guaranteed a balance, yes, he was good to us. But he was never right.”

“I can see the gratitude of your powerfuls. Not even a letter. You took him away because your people needed it, and left us all to  _ die  _ on the Plains!” 

Silence follows his choked out words that surged out of him in anger, a frustration he didn’t know he possessed. 

“Did you lose many people?” Jong In asks with a softness in his voice that Minseok appreciates, momentarily forgetting that a bruise is blooming under his shirt because of this blond aggressive man that now seems young and defenceless.

“My parents, both of them,” Minseok wipes his eyes angrily. “Countless friends. My sister, my younger sister—” he closes his eyes. “I almost lost her sons, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Se Hun starts to speak again, bracing the jars higher against his chest. “I am sorry, but I think you did that to yourselves.”

“Se Hun—” Chan Yeol warns.

“No, Minseok knows I’m right. If they didn’t cast Chen out, they wouldn’t be in a drought and people wouldn’t have died. And now they think it’s right to tell us we shouldn’t have taken Chen’s powers? I’ll tell you this, Minseok. The Sea people never tried to take Chen’s bond with the weather and make it our own. Do you know why, the Sea people, kept him fed and sheltered all these years, on this mountain? Because we know basic respect for other beings, especially when they’re Mother’s children! When we had our own old weather’s master, we still took care of Chen because what you did to him was not right. We had our master of Nature, yet we came up here and we built this house and sent food and kept him company.” He shrugs “You deserve this drought.”

“Stop, Se Hun. Minseok was a child when it happened. He didn’t deserve to lose his family in the drought!” Chan Yeol stutters to intervene.

“No, he’s right,” Minseok nods. “Se Hun is right.”

“Minseok—”

“I don’t have the right to be mad at you for using Jongdae more than you have the right to be mad at me for casting Jongdae out. It was not something we, as the individuals currently breathing in this room, could have any control over. So there’s no point in having this conversation.”

“I’m still sorry for punching you,” Jong In offers after a minute. 

Minseok scoffs. “If you punched me, I probably made it so I deserved it.”

“And Se Hun, here…” Jun Myeon starts after a glance to Se Hun. “Is sorry for his manners. We could…” he winces. “Continue to dislike each other’s people as long as we don’t hate each other? For Chen’s sake. We all care about him.”

Minseok nods. “Fine by me. For Jongdae’s sake.”

Jun Myeon seems relieved. “We will apologise to Chen for never writing again. I promise we will explain everything to him until all the clouds in his mind... and our sky... are cleared.”

Minseok finally manages to persuade Se Hun to give him the sack with gentle nudges. “Why are you telling me this? As you said, you have to talk to Jongdae.”

“We’re telling you this because you obviously care about him a lot. Enough to get into a physical fight just because we didn’t answer his letters.”

Minseok grunts at Chan Yeol. “It’s much more complicated than that and you know it.”

Before Chan Yeol can answer, his eyes glinting with a little harmless malice, Jong In elbows him. 

Minseok enters the pantry, but before he can close the door behind himself, he hears Jong In’s squeal when the taller probably stomps on his foot. “What? Stop assuming things, Yeol, they don’t even share a bed!”

Minseok puts his forehead against the cold glass of the window of the storage room, sighing.

-

The whole process of putting away the supplies they brought for Jongdae takes almost an entire hour. Jun Myeon and Chan Yeol help Minseok around the pantry, and each of their actions reveals how familiar they are with the space. Much more familiar than Minseok will ever be, actually, if all the comments they make are anything to go by. 

“Chan Yeol, you literally built that shelf yourself and you still bump your head against it?”

“Hey, I grew six spans taller since that time! I couldn’t calculate my future growth spurts back then!”

Minseok doesn’t know half of the things he’s putting away in the storage, and the names on the labels don’t ring a bell. Some of them remind him of something, but they probably belonged to tales of merchants who traveled to the Sea and brought back nothing but exotic names and a feeling of superiority for having seen a slice of the world that a regular kid of the Plains wouldn’t be able to dream of if it weren’t for them.

But that stopped happening with the drought. The few desperate or wealthy people who managed to leave the country to emigrate to luckier lands never came back to tell what they had seen.

Despite the underlying feeling of inadequacy and inferiority that Minseok feels looking at them, they warm up to him very quickly. He could tolerate their sight, as long as they distract him from thinking about how all of them, Jongdae included, are completely misled when it comes to his real purpose.

Chan Yeol and Se Hun are particularly appreciative of the ointment Minseok offers them for their bruises, since apparently it’s made of and smells of things they have never seen before, which makes him feel like his country may not be a complete failure, and they all praise his ability at taming horses. 

They want to converse with him, seemingly not disturbed by Jongdae’s absence, but Minseok keeps busying himself with random tasks in the house in order not to allow them to trap him and make him sit in the circle they made in front of the fire. He doesn’t want to stare at their swirling tattoos and listen to their stories, even though he has plenty of questions for them. Most of all, he doesn’t want them to ask questions of him. About his family, about his stables, about his purpose on the Mountain.

He’s in the pantry again, inspecting Jongdae’s provisions of dried meat to cook something for a very late lunch, when he hears the front door open. 

“Chennie!” they all scream, delighted, followed by silence.

“Where’s Minseok?” Jongdae asks.

“Pantry.”

Seconds later, Minseok hears the door of the pantry squeaking on its hinges. 

He turns around, not at all surprised by the noiseless appearance of the weather’s master. 

“Minseok,” Jongdae breathes out. “For a second I thought you had left, but I couldn’t hear your steps in the rain.”

Minseok tries a small smile. “You couldn’t hear me because I haven’t moved. Why did you think I would leave?”

Jongdae gets closer, looks for his hand again. “They said things... I thought you were hurt by their words, about you being here. You looked so hurt when I held you.”

_ I should tell you. _

When the silence grows longer and longer, Jongdae’s relief turns to worry again.

“Jongdae.” Minseok takes both Jongdae’s cold and wet hands with his own. “Listen to me. I can’t tell you much about what’s true and what’s false, what’s right and what’s wrong. But…” he swallows. “Please, whatever happens. Please never doubt my feelings.”

Jongdae’s eyes widen. “I didn’t believe what Jong In said! He was just scared, he probably didn’t even mean it—”

“Jongdae, it’s important,” Minseok insists. “You—you promise? That you will never doubt that my feelings are sincere? Regardless of what might happen?”

“What could happen?”

_ I could break you. If the Council summons me, I’ll have to go. _

_ I’ll have to go back to the kids. _

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Dae, I don’t—”

Jongdae squeezes his hands. “All right! I believe you. I do not doubt, I will not doubt. I promise, Minseok,” Jongdae smiles widely. He puts his forehead against Minseok’s. “Why are you telling me this?”

Minseok closes his eyes. “I was scared you wouldn’t come back.”

“I’m here.”

Minseok only hums. He lets the raindrops falling from Jongdae’s wet hair onto his own face cool his thoughts for a second. 

_ You’re not lying. Not about this. Not about your feelings. You’re not lying. You’re not lying. You’re not— _

He flinches when Jongdae’s cold hand creeps on his nape, and Jongdae giggles. Minseok’s eyes snap open, and Jongdae is  _ so  _ close. 

Jongdae’s other hand slowly brushes against his jawline, tilting his head slightly. 

Minseok is sure he’s not lying about his feelings because they let him know they’re there and they’re as powerful as the wind that is picking up again around the house, making the shutters slam and the windows rattle. Minseok can almost feel the same power inside himself, trapped in the confines of his small, mortal body. He doesn’t know how to let it out, and he trembles.

He just knows that Jongdae’s nose touches his, sliding slowly against his, and then Jongdae’s lips are against his for a second, and somewhere on the peaks, lightning strikes.

And then Jongdae is looking at him. “Do  _ you  _ believe me?”

Minseok does. But he wishes he didn’t. 

How can he feel the happiest man in all the lands, at the same time as the man drowning in a bottomless pit? Would the Sea of Jun Myeon, Chan Yeol, Jong In and Se Hun be deep enough to welcome him once he stoops so low and he destroys all the pure, raw feeling Jongdae has decided to muster and to gift to him? 

Why does Jongdae have to love him? Why does Minseok have to want him, when wanting him means destroying him?

Minseok said his people were selfish; yes, he was talking about himself. Because still now, he finds it in himself to smile at Jongdae and to lean in again.

“Chen, we—”

Jongdae flinches away so quickly that Se Hun probably couldn’t even manage to open the door enough to look inside before the weather’s master was turning in his direction and stepping away from Minseok, quick as lightning.

Minseok is slow as a dull drought afternoon in the way he still has his hands suspended mid-air when Jongdae walks off with his friend.

“What took you so long in there?” Chan Yeol mutters when Jongdae exits the pantry.

“We were dealing with your mess like reasonable adults. It does not involve punching each other.”

“Hey!” Jong In whines. “To my defense, I must say Minseok looked ready to do his half of the punching!”

“I mean, I was,” Minseok confirms, scratching the back of his neck as he emerges from the narrow room. He hopes he doesn’t look as over the moon as he actually feels. 

“While you were brooding the morning away in your forest, Chen,” Chan Yeol teases, “We also had reasonable conversations with your, uh, friend, Minseok. So who’s the adult?”

Unbothered, Jongdae shrugs. “Minseok is the adult. He’s older than all of us. And what did you converse about?”

After getting over the shock of Minseok being the oldest, Jun Myeon smiles. “Oh, nothing much. Se Hun made sure to initiate a very unpleasant discourse in which we made sure to assert how much we hate our own and each other’s oligarchs, and we explained to each other why we lashed out between your vegetable garden and the front door. I see you started growing pumpkins, by the way. Those look nice.”

“Thank you. Anything else?”

“Even though we didn’t need any further enlightenment on the subject, Minseok made sure to make us feel horrible for not sending you letters and for not visiting as we usually do.”

Jongdae glances at Minseok, who avoids his gaze carefully. “Fine. And?”

“Chennie, I think Minseok is the most awesome horseman of all the lands,” Jong In gushes. “Can we keep him?”

“Jongdae, I will let you speak in private,” Minseok says quietly, hating the way he’s starting to fidget. “I can go fetch what is necessary for a makeshift bed for myself.”

“No need, Minseok. You can sleep in my room, we will leave the big room for them. Just grab your things and it will be fine.”

Minseok nods and collects his few possessions and the covers he’d been using, and walks to Jongdae’s room. He closes the door. It doesn’t hit him until he’s sitting on it, waiting for them to be done talking, that there are no makeshift beds or rolled mattresses or additional covers in that room.

He’s going to be sleeping in Jongdae’s bed. With Jongdae.

-

“Minseok, lunch is ready!”

Minseok opens the door very carefully. “What is this smell?”

Se Hun looks at him as if he just said something dumb, already sitting at the table spooning through the content of his bowl. A soup, it seems.

Chan Yeol furrows his brows. “What smell?”

Now Minseok’s the one who looks at them as if they were all dumb. “You can’t smell this?”

Jongdae looks up from where he was setting two other bowls on the table, curious. Jun Myeon looks around as if he expected something to be wrong and Minseok suddenly feels very fond of him. At least he’s not the only one smelling funny things.

Until Jun Myeon shrugs. “I smell food?”

Jongdae walks up to him. “It’s fish, Minseok.” And then, turning to his friends, “I think he never had it before.”

Minseok opens his eyes wide in stupor. “Fish?”

Chan Yeol and Jong In burst out laughing. “We are from the Sea, what did you expect?”

Minseok lets Jongdae drag him to the table, too confused to pay proper attention to the way Jongdae is dragging him by the hand. He will definitely overthink it for at least an hour after bedtime, but for now he just refuses to believe that these people could be comfortable eating something that smells so bad.

He throws a distrustful look at his bowl. There are white things navigating in it. 

Jong In stops laughing and coughs. “You seriously never had fish before?”

“You said you lived near the lake,” Jongdae comments. 

Minseok blinks at them all. “And?”

“There’s fish in the lakes,” Se Hun explains with a tone of voice that Minseok usually uses to explain stuff to Baekhyun. Except that Minseok is at least five times Baekhyun’s age. It’s not flattering.

After glaring at Se Hun, Minseok accepts the spoon Chan Yeol is offering him from his right. Jongdae sits down at his left. “I know that. But I have never cooked one.”

“Oh! Do you eat it raw then?”

Minseok’s eyes bulge out of their sockets so much that they threaten to fall in the soup. “We don’t eat raw animals! What do you think we are, savages?”

“Some fish can be eaten raw. You have to be careful, of course, but it’s considered a delicacy in some parts of our country,” Junmyeon explains after blowing over the rim of his soup to cool it down.

Blonde hair, tattoos and overly friendly manners aside, Minseok is starting to understand that these Sea people are more different from Plains people than he originally thought. “We don’t eat fish.”

“Why not?” Jong In inquires.

“We just don’t do that on the Plains,” Minseok repeats, wondering why they would look offended that their nutrition varies according to their habitat.

“Why not?” Chan Yeol presses. “Your lake is right there!”

“The lake has been dry for a long time,” he has to say really quietly. And he regrets it immediately.

He observes the way all the newcomers glance at Jongdae, at the way the weather’s master simply nods in understanding and picks up his spoon with calm calculated motions as the glass of the window behind him rattles a little. 

Chan Yeol and Jong In hastily look back at their food. Jun Myeon closes his eyes. But Se Hun, after a long look at Jongdae’s face, straight up glares at Minseok. 

“Is this why you’re here?” he seethes.

Minseok’s heart stops momentarily. Maybe this is it, he has been unmasked. “What are you talking about?”

Se Hun slams his own cup back on the table. “Is your purpose here making him feel like shit all the time? To remind him that it’s his fault that your stupid lake is dry?”

Jongdae clenches his jaw. “Se Hun.”

Se Hun ignores him. “Did you think it was a good idea to come up here and remind the weather’s master that it’s because of him that your precious barn is empty? That’s right, he told us about that.” He scoffs. “Is it your goal to throw a pity party for yourself? You can stop doing that now. He cannot go back in time and he  _ regrets  _ that. Why do you want to punish him even more? Is being isolated up here not enough? No matter how hard you try to make Chen feel guilty about how your land is withering and your precious little sickly sister is dead—”

Minseok stands up so abruptly his stool falls. The table trembles. Some of his soup sloshes out of its bowl. “Keep my sister out of your mouth.”

“No. You acted all high and mighty when we arrived, trying to make us feel guilty for not writing any letters, but then…” he gestures around. “We talk to him a little and find out you’ve done nothing but list all the things you’ve lost since the drought started and imply it’s his fault! How do you think that makes him feel, huh? Better or worse than a few missed letters? Why do you act so entitled? That comment about your damn lake was not necessary. Why don’t you shut up?”

Minseok kicks the stool away backwards and walks around the table. Chan Yeol shoots up as quickly as his long legs allow him, probably fearing Minseok would try to beat the life out of Se Hun. He would be late anyway, because Jun Myeon decided to provide that service in his stead and has stood up as well to slap Se Hun across the face. 

So Minseok, who had had exactly zero intentions of getting physical with any of them again, keeps walking in the direction of the door just when Jong In nearly gets all his soup on his shirt as Chan Yeol stumbles to stop Se Hun from running behind him.

Minseok has grabbed the handle when a deafening thunder freezes all of them in their places. It was assertive, as if Jongdae just screamed in their ears.

They all turn.

Jongdae doesn’t lift his gaze from the depths of his soup as he stirs it slowly. If the rigidness of his posture didn’t betray him, it would seem like nothing unusual was going on. 

There are many uncomfortable beats of silence.

Then Jongdae speaks, still studying the contents of his bowl. “Minseok, come sit down. It’ll get cold and taste bad.”

Minseok glances at Se Hun, who was right behind him. The side of his face is red.

Jongdae brings his spoon to his mouth. He blows on the surface of the liquid and a wisp of steam obscures his features for a second. 

Se Hun crosses Minseok’s gaze. His jaws sets, and Minseok is convinced the other is going to at least kick him. 

But Jongdae speaks again, still not looking at them.

“Se Hun. Come on.”

And Se Hun doesn’t move. 

_ For Jongdae’s sake. _

Minseok steps closer to Se Hun, who actually seems a little intimidated and steps away until his back hits the kitchen counter. “You talk about my sister like that again, I will make sure your horse tramples all over you until those stupid tattoos of yours become illegible,” he whispers.

Se Hun squints, but doesn’t react otherwise. As if on cue, they both walk back to their seats, pick up their stools and sit on them.

Chan Yeol keeps standing between them for a long minute, unsure and agitated, until Jongdae smiles a little at him and they all resume eating in silence.

They shove the food in their mouths as if they can’t wait to run away in opposite directions, and no one talks or even looks at anyone else.

“Did you like it?” Jun Myeon asks Minseok politely when the latter pushes away his empty bowl at the end of the meal.

Minseok’s head had been a whirlwind of ugly emotions for the duration of the lunch so he did not really focus on the flavour of the fish, but he nods anyway. He doesn’t answer verbally because he’s not sure whether he should yell at Se Hun or prostrate himself in front of Jongdae.

Because Se Hun had been right. 

Minseok was not angling for Jongdae’s eternal repentance, but this is what Minseok had been doing. Rubbing into Jongdae’s face facts that a pure soul like Jongdae could only interpret as his own faults.

He nearly falls from the stool when Jongdae’s hand envelops his under the table. 

It gives him the strength to give a proper answer to Jun Myeon. “It was good.”

Jun Myeon looks delighted. “Chan Yeol made it. He’s a good cook, we’re very proud of him.”

Minseok tries to smile at Chan Yeol. He fails, but Chan Yeol claps his hands excitedly and Jong In pats his arms as if passing the test of Minseok’s approbation was the ultimate prize he could ever win.

Jongdae’s fingers find their way between Minseok’s until they’re interlaced. Minseok doesn’t have the strength to look in the direction of the weather’s master.

“Se Hun,” Jun Myeon says, not looking at anyone in particular, as he piles the bowls of the people sitting next to him. “When you’re done simmering, I think Minseok would appreciate an apology.”

Minseok wants to say that he doesn’t need apologies, because he had wronged Jongdae and Se Hun had been right to attack him. But Jongdae squeezes his hand again, and Minseok can only clench his teeth until they creak. He’s picking up lots of unhealthy habits.

Se Hun’s nostrils flare, as he stares back at Jun Myeon. “Why? You know I said the truth. He shouldn’t have said that to Chen.”

“Chen is in the room, Se Hun. And Chen is the only one who has the right to express whether he’s upset or not. He was not upset by what Minseok had said and you did not have the right to assume that they had never talked about this before on the basis of the brief mention he has made to you while he was telling you about him.”

Jongdae nods gratefully at Jun Myeon, who smiles and continues talking. “Besides, nothing allows you to speak like that about the dead.” He talks to Minseok now. “We the Sea people have deep respect for all the dead, Minseok. Trust me.”

“I am really sorry about your sister,” Chan Yeol says quietly, sniffling a little. “I have a sister, too.”

“I have two sisters,” Jong In murmurs, pouting a little. “I am sorry about your loss. I can’t even imagine.”

Minseok nods curtly. Se Hun seems a little relieved by the gesture.

But then Minseok looks at Jongdae. “Can—”

Jongdae waits for him to be less choked up, but then he shakes his head. “I’m not upset, Minseok,” he whispers almost inaudibly.

“Please.”

The sky is immense, and the same measure seems to be contained in Jongdae’s irises when he looks at him with sadness and nods, pulling him to stand up and then nudging him in the direction of his room.

“I’ll do the dishes.” Se Hun grabs the wicker basket and starts filling it without adding anything else. 

Jong In and Chan Yeol smile at each other, looking like they knew it was going to happen.

Jongdae barely waits until Minseok has closed the door before he holds him tenderly. “What’s wrong, Minseok? Is it because of what Se Hun has said? Are you mad at me because I told them about your family?” He moves away to look at him. “I am so sorry, but they were just curious and worried about me. I had to provide some background information about you, you have to admit they were right to be suspicious though they shouldn’t have accused you right away—”

_ You have no idea how right they have been all along. _

“Dae,” Minseok wants to draw him closer again, to calm his own heaving chest against the calm of Jongdae’s. “Dae, I don’t care, I’m not mad, Se Hun was right, I should watch what I say. I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t even be here!”

“Why not?”

Minseok feels his eyes prickling, tears fighting to come out. “I shouldn’t be here, Dae, I’m hurting you!”

He’s not even talking about his careless mentions of the drought, by now. He’s telling the truth.

“You’re not,” Jongdae answers calmly. “We talked about this, I spent a long time trying to live in peace with what I am and what my faults are, and I promised you I wouldn’t allow myself to torture myself over this. It’s hard, but I can do it. I know that because it’s you, you’re not telling me to deliberately hurt me.”

“But I am. Hurting you,” Minseok lets out through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to, and you don’t understand, but I’m hurting you! And you’re letting me!”

Jongdae blinks quickly, brows furrowing, shaking his head a little in disbelief. His grip on his arms and shoulders relents a little, as if he’s hesitantly trying to get away.

Minseok inhales to talk again, to tell him everything. 

But he never gets to do that, because Jongdae smashes their lips together.

Deafness by thunder has never felt so sweet. But not sweeter than the sensation of all his worries being washed away, forgotten completely.

Chan Yeol screams something in the other room, probably startled by the loudness of the weather, and something definitely breaks on the floor, followed by Jong In’s high pitched laughter. Minseok can only hope that the thing breaking wouldn’t be one of Chan Yeol’s bones, since he said he fell down a lot. Another thing he hopes doesn’t break is the door on its hinges, but a brief glance at it reveals that none of the Sea people are going to meddle with Jongdae’s affairs when he’s in private.

Jongdae’s cool hand on his cheek guides his attention back onto the weather’s master and Minseok is lost into him again, everything else once again forgotten. His heart is beating in his chest with the rapidity and the confusion of a scared bird ruffling its feathers, and his mouth is tingling.

“Dae—”

“You didn’t answer, before,” Jongdae murmurs. His eyes are cast low, not daring to look at Minseok’s own, or maybe too focused on his mouth. “You didn’t tell me. Do you believe me? Do you doubt my feelings?”

Minseok shakes his head. “I believe you.”

Jongdae’s gaze flickers upwards, meeting his. His cheeks become so pink, and his smile trembles when Minseok doesn’t react, so Minseok pulls him closer to himself and burrows his face in his neck. “Dae, I—I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You will not. I don’t doubt your feelings, remember? So I know you won’t.”

Minseok is petrified, his arms linking behind Jongdae’s waist, Jongdae’s arms around his neck and back, one hand rubbing circles over the creases of his shirt, his breath warm in his hair. 

And Minseok is selfish, and he decides that he wants this to last forever. 

Maybe the Council will never call him back, because they will realise that what Minseok is doing is what the Plains need. Maybe with time, Jongdae will find out by himself that through Minseok he has been bonded again to the land that unfolds at the limit of eyesight and he will be happy, he will stop feeling guilty for something that was out of his control, once it becomes under his control again, and he will start nourishing the Plains again. Maybe the wisemen will release Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, and Minseok will figure out some way to get them back without ever having to leave Jongdae or to tell him that it had all been a plot against him. 

Jongdae doesn’t have to find out that Minseok was supposed to lie to him and break his heart. After all, Minseok had fallen for him in the most sincere way, with all of himself, and he won’t have to break his heart as long as Jongdae brings the rain to the Plains. 

So Minseok is standing there, in the weather’s master’s arms, as himself, not as a delegate of the Council. What is happening right now, has not been influenced by the Council in the slightest. 

Minseok decides to trick himself into thinking that he’s not hurting Jongdae.

So he allows himself to melt in his embrace and let the other rock them lightly, one hand caressing the back of his head, crooning softly. 

Minseok is not at peace, but even in the turbulence, he’s standing where he’s supposed to be.

-

Minseok stirs and wakes up with a start. He hisses, both at the light hurting his eyes and at the pain on his side.

“Don’t move, I’ll smear it everywhere.”

Jongdae’s voice makes Minseok immediately attentive. He freezes. Jongdae’s voice as the first thing in the morning will take a while to get used to.

“Good. Hold still like that.”

Minseok turns his head. Jongdae is sitting cross legged next to him, his face focused with his brows knitted together as he studies the bruise that has started forming after Jong In’s punch. Jongdae touches it again with his fingers, pushing lightly, and Minseok whimpers. 

“What are you doing?”

Jongdae doesn’t lift his gaze, he simply shows the little jar of ointment Minseok had offered the others the night before. “Chan Yeol told me you gave it to them but didn’t put it on yourself, so I went to retrieve it. You should have applied some, you’re bruising badly.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“I had the good idea to apply it myself while you slept. Or else I know I would have had to chase you around until you surrendered.”

“But it’s nothing bad, it doesn’t hurt.”

Jongdae prods. Minseok groans in pain. 

“It doesn’t hurt, huh.”

“Well, of course it does when you touch it like that!”

Jongdae glances at him, amused. “Just stay still, I’m almost done.”

Minseok relaxes on the mattress again, eyes trained on the green of the trees outside. The sky is so blue, his eyes welcome the colour. He can feel Jongdae’s contentment seep into himself, as well as the effect of the ointment which cools the throbbing pain. 

“All done,” Jongdae announces, and there’s the click of the jar snapping closed. “Feeling better now?”

Minseok turns to lie on his back and better look at him. “Much better, thank you.”

Jongdae smiles, a little shy, and lowers Minseok’s shirt on his stomach. Minseok hadn’t even noticed the other had lifted it up to his chest in order to heal him. 

They cross gazes.

The bold Jongdae who had stated without any hesitation that they would share a bed in front of the others, the bold Jongdae who had held him, kissed him, is nowhere to be seen. As soon as the weather’s master realises his fingers are lingering on Minseok’s stomach, he lifts them with a start. 

He takes the jar and smells it. “Smells like my childhood on the Plains.”

Minseok turns to his side to face him. “Really?”

“Yeah. When I was a kid they let me play with the herbs.” He looks around, pensive. “They don’t grow up here, or else I would have made more of this.”

Jongdae puts the jar away, then crawls back on the mattress.

“Are they awake?” Minseok asks.

“Yes. Do you care?” Jongdae answers, laying down next to him. 

Hyperaware, Minseok shakes his head. “Not really, no.”

Jongdae looks at him carefully, then gets closer. “I wished for their company for ten months, and now that they’re here I wish they would be gone.”

Minseok raises a brow, worried that yesterday’s scenes had upset him more than he let them know and see, or that Minseok managed to somehow fracture their friendship with his accusations and his frustrations that had nothing to do with them and their authentic feelings (an adjective that cannot technically be used for his own). 

But then Jongdae takes his hand in his and Minseok understands. 

He grins. Jongdae grins back.

-

“If you want to come closer, you can,” Chan Yeol says with laughter in his voice, his smile is warm.

Minseok unpeels from the wall and hesitantly walks to him. Things between him and Se Hun have been tense and silent, though not really hostile. With the others, Minseok didn’t feel on edge anymore. That doesn’t mean that he had tried to have any kind of conversation with them at all the previous day after that horrible lunch. 

But Chan Yeol is brushing his horse after having removed the saddle, and Minseok loves horses, so he approaches the huge stallion. “This is a beautiful creature,” he comments.

“I know, right? Loey’s been with my family for years, but I’m the one who rides the most. When I’m not at Sea, of course.”

Minseok reaches to touch the brownish fur of the animal. The flesh is warm and taut under his palm, the animal is steady. “He’s very calm.”

“They say it’s because he’s not pureblood. But maybe they trained him well. Can’t say the same for Jong In’s horse, though.”

Minseok chuckles. “Yeah. He’s a handful.” He lets his hand run over the neck to the back of the creature. “Are you at Sea a lot?”

“Yeah. Putting all jobs together, probably over seven months a year. I cook on state mercantile vessels.” He scratches his arm, over his bicep. “I get a tattoo whenever I reach the coast safely.”

Minseok glances at all the ink on Chan Yeol’s arms. He’s suddenly more impressed with him and his job, since there is not a single spot on his arms, lower than his shoulder, free of drawings. “What do the others do?”

“Se Hun is mate to boatswain in the same crew of sailing master Jun Myeon. And Jong In’s a sail rigger.”

“I have no idea what any of those are.”

Chan Yeol’s laughter is boisterous and raucous, but free. Minseok imagines it would drown out the noise of the Sea. Not that Minseok has any idea what the Sea sounds like. 

“Se Hun is an apprentice to become a boatswain, which means... something about the maintenance supervisor, probably? While Jun Myeon is more or less the navigator. Depending on where the ship must go, he decides how to get there.”

“Oh. What about Jong In?”

“He’s one of those madmen who spontaneously assign themselves to furling and unfurling the sails, he’s assigned to mainmast so he’s really good and fast,” he says. “Oh, Mother. You should see your face. You don’t even know what a vessel looks like, do you?”

“Let’s say that Jongdae tried to explain it to me.”

“Well, he has no idea either,” Chan Yeol laughs. “Remind me to ask Jun Myeon to show you the drawings of his father’s vessels. Anyway, Jong In has, like, the most dangerous role ever. He hangs from the top of the trees and manages the sails. He says it’s exciting, but the truth is I hope he finds something else that doesn’t require swinging in the wind on tilted vessels during storms. We are never completely at ease until he comes back from his ventures and we see his stupid sunburnt face. Most of the tattoos I get, I get them to please Mother so She won’t claim him to the Sea.”

Minseok glances at Jong In, who’s trotting in the meadow without a care in the world. He looks very little like the kind of guy who would like the thrill of danger, right now, but Minseok had almost fought him and can see well how he has met the other side of the coin. “Is it a tradition? The tattoos?”

“In ancient times, they did it to grant themselves safe travels to Mother. Then one day they stopped doing it, and found out Mother didn’t really mind,” Chan Yeol chuckles and starts grooming the stallion again. “Now people do it for superstition. Or because of the aesthetic.”

“Why do you do it then?”

“Both?”

Minseok laughs. “If you’re at Sea so much, why get a horse?”

“I travel a lot, when I’m not employed. And we used to come up here a lot more often before, so I needed him. But we the Sea people are very aware that the use we can make of these creatures is much more limited and bumbling than what you do on the Plains.” He pats on the animal’s back, obtaining a chuff in response. “Chen told us you used to work with horses.” 

Having expected the question, Minseok nods, his hand connecting to the mane of the horse. “I did. We had some stables, and we bred some well-behaved silver grullo horses.”

“Silver?”

“That’s what people started calling them. They were a nice dove-gray, with black legs, mane and tails. Sometimes they had mottling on the hind feet. Very clever animals, obedient too, would never unhorse you, and knew their way back home in every situation.”

“You said... oh, my—the silver horses from the Plains!”

Minseok offers a sad smile. Precisely them.

“Those were yours? I don’t understand much about horses, but everyone always said the silver horses from the Plains were so good! Hey, Se Hun!”

Minseok hadn’t noticed Se Hun slinking to the side of the house to unsaddle his own gelding. Judging from the way Se Hun’s eyebrows are angling, the last thing he had wanted was to be noticed. 

“What.”

“Minseok here owned the silver horses!”

Se Hun blinks, avoiding to look anywhere below Chan Yeol’s chin. Which meant Minseok remained accurately below his line of sight. “And?”

Chan Yeol huffs. “Ugh. Nevermind. Here, take mine too if you’re going to wash them,” he says as he hands his friend the blanket from under Loey’s saddle.

“Can’t you wash your own stuff?”

“I can. But you owe me one for not telling Jun Myeon you were the one who lost his compass four months ago.”

“Yeol.”

Chan Yeol puts his hand around his mouth and inhales deeply. “Jun M—”

Se Hun rips the blanket from his friend and disappears almost as silently as Jongdae usually does. 

Following his retreating back, Minseok catches sight of Jongdae and Jong In in the orchard. Jong In is narrating something with the aid of big hand gestures, the carrots in his hands spraying topsoil everywhere, and Jongdae is laughing.

“Don’t worry about Se Hun, he’ll come around.”

Minseok flinches upon hearing Jun Myeon’s voice behind himself. He immediately releases the horse’s mane and spins around.

Jun Myeon has the whitest smile Minseok has ever seen, after Jongdae’s. “Chan Yeol, did you call me?”

“No, you probably misheard.”

Jun Myeon shrugs and pats Minseok’s shoulder. “As I was saying, Se Hun won’t hold grudges much longer.”

“He has the right to be mad. Even Jongdae would have the right to be mad at me, if he wasn’t so—”

“Enamoured?” Chan Yeol supplies.

Minseok chokes on his spit.

Jun Myeon stomps on Chan Yeol’s foot. “Yeollie, please go help Jong In with those carrots. Remind him they’re not supposed to flap in the air like the wind vane on top of the mainmast.”

Chan Yeol walks away, still giggling, though limping. 

Minseok watches the tallest person of all Lands as he jogs to the orchard and scoops up both Jongdae and Jong In, ensuing bolts of musical hilarity. Carrots end up flying everywhere.

“Well, that was counterproductive.” Jun Myeon sighs. “Minseok, I know my horse is not even remotely majestic as Jong In’s, but I’d like to offer it to you anyway if one of these days you feel like riding.”

Puzzled, Minseok raises his hands and shakes his head. “Oh, no, it’s—”

“It was what you grew up doing, so you must miss it. The offer still stands. About Se Hun,” he bites his lips. “I know him really well. We have spent most of our childhood together and we’re with each other both at Sea and on the mainland. Let me reiterate what we have already cleared yesterday. We care about Chen and we worry about him. We all know he hasn’t had it easy until now, so you must understand that we can be a little wary around you. All four of us are different, and while Jong In and Chan Yeol might try to become your friends to understand you better, Se Hun will try to push the limits until you break, with the same purpose.”

“And what is  _ your  _ tactic?”

“I watch them do their thing and I reflect.”

Minseok swallows. “Do you like what you have observed so far?”

Jun Myeon scoffs. “I literally just offered you my horse. Horses might not be as revered at Sea as much as they are on the Plains, but they are still valuable possessions and may I be damned if I didn’t grow attached to this creature. And I travel the world as a job, don’t think I have never encountered someone from the Plains who didn’t tell me about how offering a horse is a pledge of trust.”

Turning to the orchard, Minseok finds out that Chan Yeol was not exaggerating when he said that he falls down a lot since he is, indeed, on the ground between two rows of lettuce tufts. Jongdae holds his stomach, the sun at his back, laughing so loudly that Minseok can’t hear anything else, despite the distance. 

The sky is so blue it hurts his eyes. 

Minseok thinks that he’s fooling everyone, but at the same he isn’t. Because he really cares about Jongdae. 

“I really care about him,” he says out loud.

“Good, then Se Hun will leave you alone. He’s just... very attached to Chen.” The way he says it is a little funny, but when Minseok raises a brow Jun Myeon simply laughs. “Oh, not that way. Not anymore, at least.”

The chances of Se Hun and Minseok becoming best of friends keep decreasing.

“He’ll come around,” Jun Myeon concludes. 

Se Hun does indeed come around later that evening, when Minseok is cleaning up after they ate. 

“I have a brother,” he says, taking a glass from Minseok’s hand and wiping it dry with a rag. “If anything happened to him and anyone dared to say anything about him, I would probably commit murder and then spend the rest of my miserable brotherless life as a galley slave.”

Minseok wordlessly gapes at him. “What? Your society has slaves?”

Se Hun wipes the glass methodically, but angrily, ignoring the question. “So if you felt like punching me, I think I’d deserve it.”

“You Sea people really have a thing for punching people, don’t you.”

Se Hun rolls his eyes. “Chen says it’s childish.”

“It is!” Jongdae yells from behind.

“I personally call it cultural differences,” Se Hun continues.

“Sorry if we don’t love to bust our knuckles open whenever we encounter the slightest inconvenience,” Jongdae whines.

“Chennie, your Minseok was ready to punch me in the face literally yesterday,” Jong In says from the door.

“We punch people too, Dae,” Minseok has to agree. “But I wouldn’t find it in myself to punch you in the face right now, Se Hun, unless you want to reiterate what you were saying yesterday about my sister.”

“I don’t!” Se Hun raises his hands, almost hurling the glass in the air. “I don’t! I just—I mean, I still feel like your comment had been out of place but I thought over it and—dammit, will you just please ride my horse tomorrow?”

“That would be awesome!” Jongdae cheers.

So Minseok is resigned to the fact that maybe he will have to become friends with Se Hun.

-

When Minseok comes back inside to go to bed, shivering a little against the chilly but beautifully star studded evening, he catches sight of Jongdae sitting on the bed that used to be inhabited by Minseok, surrounded by his friends. They’re all sitting close together and seemingly playing a game with colorful cards that Minseok has never seen before.

“Minseok,” Jong In whines. “Are you avoiding us?”

“Is it because of me? I promise I will shut my mouth,” Se Hun promptly says. “Or you can shut me up with a punch but apparently that’s not culturally acceptable for you.”

Minseok walks to the fire that Jun Myeon is stoking. “I’m not avoiding you,” he reassures them. “Just a little introverted. Your people seem to be quite the opposite, and this is a culture shock for me.”

“Ah, we’re sorry,” Jun Myeon immediately apologises, putting a hand on his arm in what is supposed to be a reassuring manner, but that just goes to prove Minseok’s point. “It’s hard to tell, since we rubbed off on Chennie a lot.”

Minseok smiles at Jongdae, who’s looking at him from behind his deck of cards that Chan Yeol is shamelessly spying on. “Why the name Chen, though?”

He thought the people from the Sea would know this, but the way they all look at the weather’s master with quizzical gazes says otherwise.

“It means  _ dawn,” _ Jongdae says quietly. “When I was exiled, the Council appointed three families of foreigners to bring me up here. That’s what they called me. Because they said I deserved a new start.”

“Foreigners?” Minseok asks.

“Yes, from the Desert. The Council thought that since Mother doesn’t have children in the Desert, she never had any, I wouldn’t transfer my powers to their people. They were right, but didn’t expect my bond to wither naturally anyway, with time and distance.”

Uneasy, everyone avoids Jongdae’s gaze. He smiles to himself. “They sent two delegates of the wisemen here with orders, and the three families were paid to help build this house and to bring what I could need, as manpower. They left soon, and for a while it has been me, myself and I, until Jun Myeon’s father heard of what was going on and organised an expedition to visit me. The following time, Jun Myeon tagged along. And the time following that, Jun Myeon’s friends decided to see the Mountain with their own eyes. The rest is history.”

Chan Yeol giggles. Jun Myeon smiles fondly at Jongdae, but Jongdae’s own smile falters soon.

“Minseok, this was not intended to be a criticism to you in any way. The same way you wouldn’t let me feel guilty for what I did to the Plains, I won’t let you feel guilty for what our people did to me.”

The silence is profound, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire.

Minseok nods. They smile at each other.

“I’m starting to see the appeal of the lack of punches,” Jong In whispers loudly.

Chan Yeol elbows him.

Se Hun seems to be having completely different thoughts. “I like the name Jongdae, too.”

Jongdae ruffles his hair, standing up. “Thank you. You can call me that if you want. Good night, everybody.”

He’s pulled in a hug by each of the others, good nights and sweet dreams wished profusely by everyone, and Minseok has to endure a painful hug from Jong In too before Jun Myeon not so subtly pulls him away when he sees Minseok freeze. 

Then finally, Minseok is sitting on Jongdae’s bed, the door safely closed behind them.

Jongdae brings a candle to the stool at the side of the bed, and sits next to him. “Do you like them?”

Minseok snorts. “If I answered ‘no’, what would happen?”

The weather’s master laughs. “Absolutely nothing. I wouldn’t try to change your mind, but I don’t think I’d care, either.”

“And if they hated me?”

“The same applies. Of course I’d like it if you all got along. You’re the most important people in my life…” he hesitates, and his smile falls. “Well, the only people in my life,” he corrects himself, before he resumes enthusiastically. “So I would love to be able to live a day without fearing you might punch each other. But ultimately, I can’t force friendships on any of you, and as long as none of you leaves me behind, I’m going to be fine.”

_ I was supposed to leave you behind. _

“I am very happy that they were there for you all these years, Dae.”

Jongdae smiles that smile of his that makes Minseok unable to focus on anything else but his inhale-exhale process. It becomes more and more difficult to repeat each time. He continues, “I hope they will always be there for you.”

“Oh, for sure they will. Now that you seemed to be so pissed when they stopped sending me letters, I’m sure they won’t risk incurring your wrath if they do it again.”

A pang of guilt and sorrow in Minseok’s heart. He’s starting to get used to it.

“Were they always just them?”

“In the beginning there were more, but I wouldn’t call them my friends. There had been Jun Myeon’s older brother too, for a couple years, and other guys who came to help with the house, or to bring up stuff. But mostly them. Jun Myeon’s father is a good man, and he was in the oligarchs’ winning party for a decade so he made sure the Sea took good care of me even before I became their weather’s master. Up until the mistress was born,” he swallows. “Apparently now the Southern Merchants hold the power. They are a very superstitious bunch, and they had always supposed that Jun Myeon’s father was helping me just to get Mother’s services. After that, they didn’t like the idea of anyone feeling devotion for me.”

Minseok nods slowly, listening to him, listening to the breeze in the leaves outside. It’s not the sound of hurt.

Yet it all sounds so familiar. It sounds like Jongdae being used, and it’s what Minseok is doing. 

“So they let me fend for myself for a while until everyone was sure the mistress wouldn’t mind that anyone from the Sea was friends with me, and as soon as Jong In returned from his last job they took their horses, loaded them, and came up here.” Jongdae laughs. “I suppose they wanted to surprise me, but I heard them coming like always.”

“You knew they’d get here soon? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to panic and run away.”

Jongdae lays down on the mattress, wiggling to find a comfortable position. Minseok imitates him, laying down on his side mirroring him, until they’re looking at each other. 

“Are you uncomfortable with me?” Jongdae asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes you hold me so naturally, others it looks like you are not sure whether you want to touch me.”

Minseok stares at the shadows dancing on Jongdae’s beautiful face. “Those are the times during which I can’t believe I am allowed to do so.”

Jongdae chuckles.

After their first kiss, Jongdae had made it a point to hold Minseok’s hand as often as possible, though he refrained from doing so in front of the others because he understood it made Minseok shy. They had slept in that bed together the night before, but Minseok had been asleep when Jongdae had gone to bed after chatting with his friends, and Minseok had simply woken up with Jongdae’s shoulder planted between his shoulder blades. Their contact had been accidental. 

But Minseok doesn’t want their touches to be accidental.

“Is it because you’ve never been with a man?” Jongdae whispers.

Minseok closes his eyes. “I... have,” he admits. “More than once.”

“In secret?”

“No, we don’t have a problem with it on the Plains.”

“At the Sea, they have to love each other in secret,” Jongdae says sadly. “And if Jong In and Chan Yeol ever open their eyes, they will have to hide from their families and from society.”

“Jong In and Chan Yeol?!”

Jongdae shushes him. “I have watched them grow up, with the privilege of seeing them here, away from the prying eyes of their society. I hear things nobody else can hear. But I suppose certain things don’t escape the human eye, since I’m not the only one rooting for them. Jun Myeon and I have bets going on about them since eight years ago.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Who’s winning?”

“I am, of course.”

Minseok laughs and Jongdae echoes him. He thinks of Chan Yeol diligently getting his tattoos done whenever he goes ashore, getting his skin inked more for Jong In’s safety than for his own, for years. He wonders how it must feel to love someone quietly for so long.

When they quiet down, Minseok can’t help but wander with his thoughts. Especially when Jongdae lifts a hand and brushes his hair away from his forehead and then brushes his fingers through his hair, to the back of his head, to his nape, and he holds him there, firmly and softly at the same time, waiting for Minseok to realise that he is indeed allowed to do it, too. Or maybe waiting for Minseok to stop shivering. 

And ultimately getting tired of waiting, and slowly pulling Minseok closer, shifting his hand lower on his back and tangling one of his legs with his.

Politely pretending not to notice how Minseok’s breath hitches.

“Jongdae, you’ve been away from... everyone, and everything.”

“Yes.”

“How do you... who? How?”

Jongdae chuckles, his eyes little sparkling crinkles. “Jun Myeon’s brother initiated me to the world of romance. But it’s a secret, you’re only the third person to know.” He laughs at Minseok’s expression. “Jun Myeon is losing these bets too. He keeps dropping hints at Chan Yeol and Jong In, but they remain clueless to this day.”

Ignoring the mixed feelings he nurtures towards Jun Myeon’s family, gratitude to his father and a petty antipathy to his brother, Minseok focuses on the funny part. “But Chan Yeol noticed something was going on between us literally right after they arrived. He can’t be so dense.”

“Oh, he absolutely can. In this case it’s my fault, I haven’t exactly been subtle.”

“Why, you lost your touch?”

“Maybe I don’t care, because it’s different with you.”

And before Minseok can say something embarassing or blush more than it should be humanly possible, Jongdae smiles and presses a new kiss on his lips.

He hides his face in Minseok’s neck, making himself small, and whispers a “good night” that is accompanied by a gentle, slow thunder in the very far distance, up in the endless sky above.

Minseok falls asleep with his arms around the weather’s master, a smile on his lips. He dreams his own image in a mirror, his arms blackened by swirling ink.

-

The following days are just pure bliss. 

Minseok wakes up every morning either with his arms wrapped around Jongdae, or cradled in the other’s embrace. They stay up until the wee hours of the night, when the only sounds are the distant hoot of the owls and the occasional snoring from the other room, and they whisper to each other little snippets of their stories, they laugh about something that happened during the day, they make plans for the following days, or tease and tickle each other. Then, they seal their “good night” with a kiss, and they travel to dreamland together. 

Sometimes it rains during the night, and all Minseok has to do is hug Jongdae a little tighter until it stops. Other times, Minseok’s dreams would cause blustery winds, but Jongdae remains unaware, his comforting weight against his body immobile but still reassuring.

Jongdae seemed to be the bold one, but he doesn’t lead Minseok on. Minseok on his part does everything extremely carefully, because he didn’t lie when he said he is not sure he’s allowed to have the moment he’s currently living. 

He doesn’t know what the Council would think if they knew of his actual emotional involvement with the weather’s master, but he supposes they wouldn’t mind as long as Jongdae  _ feels  _ and sends billowing clouds charged of rain rolling down the slopes of the Mountain and onto the Plains. 

He doesn’t even know whether Mother is there and is listening and knows that Minseok’s intentions are not pure. They currently are, just like his feelings, but there is the shadow of a question Minseok avoids posing to himself. What if one day the wisemen forced him to do something he’d regret?

“I can almost hear you thinking,” Jongdae whispers sleepily, his lips next to Minseok’s cheek on the pillow. He can feel them move against his skin.

The singing of the crickets outside is insistent through the open window. Minseok shivers a little under the light bedding; he should get up and close it before falling asleep. 

Minseok keeps staring at the ceiling, not daring to look at the weather’s master. “Sorry.”

Jongdae puts an arm around his waist and simply rests it there. “No worries, keep thinking. I’ll listen if you need me to.”

During dinner, Chan Yeol had asked Jun Myeon to show Minseok and Jongdae all the pictures he had of their vessels, and spent most of their meal illustrating what was what, and where they fit in those magical structures. 

After that, Jong In had decided to show them all the drawings made by his sister’s kids. He carries them with himself everywhere he goes, on every single journey on the venture sailing ship whose crew he’s part of, and he shows them proudly to everyone he meets. According to Se Hun, it had taken an unusually long while for Jong In to realise that Minseok was a new acquaintance therefore he hadn’t seen them yet, since he usually springs them in everyone’s face after five minutes.

“I’ve seen him brag about his nephew and niece to literal  _ pirates, _ ” Jun Myeon sighed.

Jong In had snatched the drawings from his hand, offended. “Even the pirates said they’re cute!”

It had prompted Minseok to retire to Jongdae’s (his) room and take out Baekhyun’s and Kyungsoo’s drawings that he had received with the wisemen’s letter. A lot of questions about them had followed, and he had avoided most of them thanks to Jun Myeon’s tactful watch.

Jong In’s eyes were not the only ones sparkling as Minseok told them how picky Baekhyun used to be with his food, or how Kyungsoo used to be the town’s favourite because when he smiled his mouth looked like a heart.

They are always on his mind, but tonight they are a little more because of that conversation.

He inhales deeply, turning his head to the shelf where the drawings are currently resting.

“You miss them, don’t you.”

Minseok freezes, but Jongdae simply cuddles closer to him. 

“I would never stop you if you decided to go back to them.”

Minseok can see it happening. Bidding his goodbye to Jongdae, saying he would go get the kids and come back to live on the Mountain with him. Except that he would never be back, and Jongdae wouldn’t come to look for him because if he was seen on the Plains, he would get killed. 

He can imagine Jongdae waiting for him, looking wistfully out of the window, waiting for a pigeon the same way he had waited for eight months for Jun Myeon’s letter announcing a visit. He can feel in his own chest the pain Jongdae would feel once he realises Minseok is never going to write to him, is never going to go back to him. The bottomless despair he would fall into, realising he had once again been used, and that he once again belongs to nothing but the sky and there’s no one in the world he can call his, except for Mother. 

Jongdae shushes him gently, his lips gentle against his for a brief second, and Minseok can’t calm his sobbing chest until he has reached around Jongdae and has pulled him taut over himself, crying silently in his shoulder.

“It’s all right, Seok,” Jongdae whispers in his hair. “Cry.”

The sky cries, too, little raindrops hitting the window frame, finding their way inside. The crickets are silent now.

Minseok hastily checks whether Jongdae is crying, but he just smiles sadly at him. “Is this what you meant?”

“W-when?”

Jongdae cards his fingers through his hair. “When you said you were going to hurt me. You knew one day you would leave,” he says matter of factly, staring intently at his hand working Minseok’s hair. “But I’m not hurt. I knew what I was doing when I fell for someone whose responsibility is to be somewhere else.”

“I don’t want to be somewhere else, Dae. I want to be here,” Minseok says vehemently, his voice straining with emotion. “I want to stay here.”

“Sshh, all right.” Jongdae kisses him again. “Thank you for telling me. It makes me happy.”

“I’m not saying it because I want to make you happy, it’s the damn truth! I want to stay here with you.”

There will never be anything in the world more endearing than the way Jongdae’s cheeks pinken and his long lashes flutter when he doesn’t know how to respond to something Minseok tells him. “Minseok... the kids might be just fine living with your rich friend, but you’re their family now. I think you should go back, eventually.”

“I don’t want to go back!”

Jongdae kisses him again, this time to shut him up because he was raising his voice. “You’ll wake up the others.”

“I don’t care!”

Chuckling, Jongdae brushes his nose against Minseok’s protruding lower lip. “Are you throwing a temper tantrum?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. Se Hun has momentarily possessed me.”

Jongdae laughs a little more. But it’s still raining outside.

The weather’s master looks at the darkness outside, the meadow no longer illuminated by the stars and the moon because of the clouds, and he sighs. “I’ll go close the window.”

Minseok refuses to let him go, which seems to amuse Jongdae a little, but in the end Jongdae scampers off to do what he was supposed to do.

When he comes back, he stands near the bed. “When do you have to go?”

It’s not like Minseok can answer “when the wisemen tell me I’m allowed to do so, which could mean tomorrow or never,” so he improvises. “Yixing offered to take care of them and feed them for six months,” he says carefully. “It’s still—we have time.”

Jongdae’s gaze mellows. “But can you stay six months without them?”

_ I can’t stay six months without  _ you.

“We still have time,” Minseok repeats.

Jongdae nods and lays next to him. He’s silent for a while, then, “When it becomes too much and you decide you don’t want to miss them anymore—please don’t think of me. Just go.”

“If I go, then can I come back?”

Jongdae puts his chin on Minseok’s chest. He’s still smiling that sad smile that makes Minseok want to crumple the peaks into crumbs with his bare hands. 

“It’s not like I can go anywhere else, right? I’ll always be here.”

Minseok squeezes his eyes shut, because as much as it’s reassuring, it’s still unfair. It’s a permanent sentence.

The low rumble of thunder doesn’t surprise either of them. 

“I’ll always be here.”

-

In the end, Minseok accepts to ride Se Hun’s gelding, a quiet, slim creature that responds to the name of Wind. It reminds him of the horses of his parents’ stables in build and complexion, though the fur is shorter and the colours are quite different, it being a chestnut roan. All the others offered their horses, but Minseok decided to accept Se Hun’s as a gesture of peace between them. 

Se Hun has been really careful around Minseok after the initial outbursts, and never again mentioned Minseok’s role or purpose on the Mountain, accepting whatever he could see in the way Jongdae behaved. The others have kept up their disarming and unrelenting attempts at befriending Minseok, especially since their efforts paid off and Minseok stopped being so closed off all the time around them. 

With the exception of Se Hun, who tried to avoid spending time alone with Minseok. The latter couldn’t tell whether it was due to an unreasonable fear of being punched, or to the possibility of ending up fighting again. Or maybe he’s just shy under the hard façade.

But Se Hun is smiling when he hands him the reins of Wind, and Minseok can’t hold back his own smile as he accepts them and mounts him.

Chan Yeol jumps on his horse right after with a delighted noise, and Jong In manages to reign in his stallion long enough to properly sit on the saddle and start trotting. Chan Yeol follows him to the trail to the mountain pass.

Minseok feels the eagerness of Wind under his legs, the warmth and the vibration of the ready muscles. He had missed this. He leans forward, running his hands on the neck of the gelding and murmuring soft words. 

Jongdae walks out of the house shouldering a bag, and he beams at him when he sees where he is. Jun Myeon keeps talking to him, but Jongdae is clearly not listening. He’s too busy letting Minseok know, through his gaze only, how glad he is to see Minseok happy. 

Minseok forcefully tears his eyes away from the weather’s master. “Will you stay here?” he asks Se Hun, who was still standing there awkwardly next to his horse.

“Oh? Yes. Yes, I’ve been there too many times. I suppose it hasn’t changed.”

“I could give you back Wind, and I could ride one of the supply horses. They are not too bad. There are horses for everyone here.”

Jongdae arrives next to him and slings his bag over the saddle. “Help me get up, I have never learned how to do it by myself.”

Minseok grabs the hand Jongdae was extending towards him, freeing the stirrup for Jongdae to use it. “How come? In all these years, they never taught you?”

Jongdae huffs, steps on the stirrup and clings to him as he throws his leg on the other side of the saddle. “Who, them? They can barely sit on a horse by themselves, imagine teaching how to do it to others.”

“Aw, look at him, acting all superior just because of his Plains descent,” Jun Myeon mocks Jongdae, flicking his knee. “I’m sure Minseok will teach you how to become an excellent horseman so you can at least have the right to flaunt this superiority in the future.”

Jongdae chuckles, and Minseok turns his torso to look at him. “I can teach you,” he says excitedly. “I used to do it a lot at the stables. It’ll be fun.”

Jongdae tilts his head, strands of hair shading his forehead moving in a fresh breeze as he blushes. “I can’t wait.”

Se Hun mutters something under his breath and Jun Myeon is quick to silence him. “Feel free to use our horses while we’re here. Right, Se Hun?”

“Of course.”

“Go, now. I don’t trust Chan Yeol and Jong In alone with Jong In’s horse... or alone at all for that matter.”

To emphasize his words, the echo of a very high pitched scream that belongs to Jong In echoes in the woods. 

“I’ll take good care of Wind.” Minseok nods to Se Hun, who shrugs. 

“I know you will.”

Jongdae shifts on the saddle to better hold onto Minseok, his arms around his waist. “Do you have your hat?”

Minseok takes it from the saddle horn and wears it. “All good.”

“Let’s go, then.”

-

Minseok had missed being lulled by the slow walk of a horse, the rhythmic clopping sound of the hooves on the ground. What makes it even better, and he didn’t think it was possible for it to get any better, was the sensation of a pair of arms loosely wrapped around his waist and the gentle weight of a chin resting on his shoulder. 

“How does it feel?” Jongdae asks after a while.

“Like home.”

Jongdae’s hold becomes stronger, the chin is substituted by a forehead. Jongdae inhales deeply against his back. “I’m glad.”

Minseok pulls a little on the reins, the horse immediately steers around the boulder on their path. He halts them to a stop once they have a complete view of the valley. They’re very high up, almost at the base of one of the peaks, in a grassy dip before the precipitous scree that leads to the naked rock. Without the horses, it would have taken them more than five hours to get there.

Apparently, Jongdae had led his friends there multiple times before, because Chan Yeol and Jong In look very at ease spurring their horses around, chasing each other and yelling as their stallions rear up or twirl, as excited as they are. Their voices and neighs echo in the valley.

Minseok chuckles. “How do I add my own money to your ongoing bets with Jun Myeon? Wait—I don’t have any money.”

Jongdae laughs. “Me neither. How about you teach them how to rein in their horses before they fall and injure themselves before they can give me some actual material that would win us Jun Myeon’s money?”

Minseok pats on the weather’s master’s thigh, prompting him to jump down and following suit. “I’m supposed to teach you first.” He hands Jongdae the reins, and Jongdae takes them thoughtfully.

Then he pulls them, and Wind obediently stomps until he’s standing between them and the others. Jongdae pulls Minseok close and kisses him ardently, making Minseok feel like he’s free falling from the peak.

“Still wishing the others weren’t here?” Minseok manages to pant when Jongdae finally stops sucking his lower lip to catch his breath.

With a low whine, Jongdae nods.

“Yeah, well, me too, but I haven’t told you before because it felt rude.” Minseok grabs Jongdae’s face and brings their lips together again. 

The four of them spend a pleasant afternoon together. They splash their feet in the ice-cold water of a brook, they lay down in the sun teasing Minseok because he has to sit in the shadow of the horses or else his skin would catch fire. Jongdae is, as they have ascertained, unaffected by the heat, while the others are pretty much used to it after a lifetime spent on the deck of a vessel.

“It’s different up here, though. The sun feels different,” Chan Yeol explains, sprawled face-up in the grass.

“It’s different in the Plains, too.” Minseok nods. 

_ It’s deadly. _

Jong In lifts himself on one elbow. “Do you miss the Plains?”

“I just miss my sister’s kids. That’s all. Do you miss the Sea?”

Jong In groans. “I do. Chennie, you know I love you, but everything is so hard up here—hard not as in difficult, but…”

Chan Yeol sighs. “I miss the rolling of the waves, man.”

“Exactly. It’s so beautiful.”

Minseok shivers. “I can’t imagine not feeling static. Why would I want the Earth to move underneath my feet?”

“It’s like dancing on water,” Jong In gushes. “I love being at Sea. Also, for being someone so attached to static, you seem to like wobbling on horses a lot.”

It leads to Minseok’s much promised lesson about horses. Jongdae is learning from scratch, but the attentive way Chan Yeol and Jong In observe and listen, and even ask questions, makes him deduce that people from the Sea generally manage not to be thrown in the air by their own horses all the time just based on pure luck.

They all clap when Jongdae manages to ride Wind in a circle around them by himself without anyone holding the reins, and he stops the creature with composure.

“See? I can't even do that, and I’ve been riding horses since I was eleven years old!”

“That’s because your horse is a devil, Jong In,” Chan Yeol points out.

Jongdae jumps down, a mischievous smile on his lips. 

“What?” Minseok asks lowly, the other two bickering in the background.

The weather’s master shrugs and pats Wind’s neck. “He’s Mother’s child too,” he whispers. “Of course we’d get along.”

Which is, as many of the things Jongdae says, beyond Minseok’s comprehension. But it’s impossible to doubt his words, not when he holds within himself the figurative reins of the whole land, and he looks like he could even move the Mountain if he lifted his hand.

It takes much less to move Minseok, though. All Jongdae has to do is look at him from under his long eyelashes, and Minseok is  _ gone. _

That night, under the covers in Jongdae’s bed, Minseok runs his hands over the weather’s master’s beautiful skin, not caring whether he’s allowed to hold him that close or not. 

And the window slams open because of the forceful wind, and Jongdae’s cheeks are pink and his lips are swollen, and they chuckle lightly and close the window before laying down tangled in each other and wonder, with breathy laughs, their noses pressed together, what would happen to the weather if they kept touching each other, and conclude that it wouldn’t go unnoticed by the occupants of the other room.

So Minseok just kisses Jongdae’s face all over, and when he closes his eyes the night is starry and free of clouds. 

-

“What are you doing?” Jongdae asks, a little sharp.

Se Hun stops mid-motion, a saddlebag in his hands. “Uh?”

Jongdae stomps to him, peeks inside the bag, and gasps. “Are you leaving?”

“Uh.”

“Chennie, we’re sorry,” Jun Myeon appears from the pantry. “We have to go.”

Minseok, despite missing the privacy that solitude meant for him and Jongdae, feels a little sad. People from the Sea did not know the concept of personal space, were too loud all the time, and were a little too attached to Jongdae to guarantee Minseok would make it out alive if they somehow found out who sent Minseok to the Mountain and why.

But he would miss them. They were funny, companionable and they offered insight on parts of the world that Minseok never thought would arouse his curiosity. He finds himself hoping he would meet them again, despite knowing how unlikely it would be. 

Jongdae seems very distraught. “You stayed less than a month,” he accuses. “I hadn’t seen you in almost a year.”

Jun Myeon hugs him. “I know. We’re so sorry, Chennie. We have missed you a lot, and we will miss you. But we came here more to check whether you were all right, and to get your forgiveness, than to spend the summer here. We were never meant to stay. You know this is a busy season for us, I have to go back to work.”

Jong In is bashful, appearing with the clothes he just collected from the clothesline. “I have to set out to Sea for a job in three weeks. And Hunnie has his final boatswain examination in two months. We can’t stay any longer.”

At a loss for words, Jongdae opens his mouth and then closes it. Minseok glances out of the window. The sky is a little grey. 

Chan Yeol drops the blanket he had been holding. “Oh, Chennie. I’m so sorry.” He hugs the weather’s master. “I’d stay, I’m free for a while, but it would be a little awkward now that you have Minseok, am I right?”

Jongdae gurgles something, buried in his friend’s arms.

Minseok feels himself blush a little, but he remains seated at the stool at the table, finishing up his dinner. 

As soon as Jongdae emerges again, Jun Myeon spins him around with a serious expression. “We left all the things we could bring with the two spare horses in your pantry. I know Mother treats you well, but you’ll be fine with our stocks too. There is also a bag of new books, I put it under the bed. I chose them for you. If there’s anything else you might need, write a list and next time we come up here, we’ll bring it to you. I think a cart can be arranged until the trails end, then we can shuttle back and forth a couple times—”

“Will you write to me?” Jongdae’s voice is thin.

Jun Myeon grabs his shoulders. “Of course. We’re sending you a pigeon as soon as we arrive home, and you can send it back, and we can have a correspondence like we used to. For at least two months there should be at least one of us at ashore to receive your letters. You know it’s tricky to write when we’re at Sea, but we’ll manage something.”

“We’re not leaving you alone,” Chan Yeol promises with a wobbly chin.

Jongdae’s eyes are a little wet, but he smiles. “I’m not alone anymore.”

Minseok’s heart does a weird leap, swelling before breaking. He keeps a straight face and lowers his gaze on his plate, pushing the food around and wondering if anyone would notice if he slammed his head into it.

“No. No you’re not,” Se Hun confirms, and smiles at Minseok in a way that lets him know he has stopped doubting him.

Minseok does not deserve a quarter of the light that invades the room when all five of them smile at him simultaneously.

-

The goodbyes are teary, and so is the sky for the rest of the morning. Minseok holds Jongdae through it, and when the sun is at its zenith (or at least, Minseok supposes it is because he cannot actually see it) Jongdae shakes himself out of it and pats Minseok’s head, standing up to proceed with the daily activities around the house.

Minseok follows him quietly, having learned that as much as it’s possible to influence the weather’s master and his moods—and it’s actually extremely easy to trigger an emotion—once it’s up and running, it has to run its course until it’s consumed. 

The way Jongdae smiles at him lets him know that he’s manipulating the length of this gloomy mood, but he can’t make it evaporate like a rain puddle under the sun. Sadness must melt away slowly like the upper layers of a glacier in spring.

Together they take inventory of everything Jun Myeon and the others have brought Jongdae, which includes a lot of salted food, including fish, jars of food in oil, sausages, cheese, honey and jam, olives, bags of flour, sugar, salt, rice, and many other things. They had also left books, some new clothes and blankets, and candles even though Jongdae tends to go to bed when the sun sets and wake up when it rises, and all the candles he already has lie unused in their boxes because in the evening he likes to read by the fireplace.

Everything feels so silent now that they’re lacking four people and six horses.

It stops raining in the afternoon, when Minseok is outside fixing the leg of the bench that was a little wobbly lately. He smiles to himself and finishes his work, and when he goes inside he finds that Jongdae is making his bed with fresh sheets, singing softly.

“Are you feeling better?”

Jongdae stops singing, but he smooths the fabric with a smile, then he looks at him. “Yes. Of course part of me feels like they’ll never be back again, but it’s irrational.” He sits on the bed, taking a pillow to plump it up. “And I’m not alone anymore.”

Minseok had been so worried by Jongdae’s state that he hadn’t realised that this would imply some things. 

These things push Minseok forward. They push him to take the pillow from Jongdae's hands, and to guide his own hands around Jongdae’s face as he kisses him thoroughly, adoringly. They push him to lay Jongdae back on the bed that smells like laundry in the afternoon sun, and a little like pine. 

The rumble of thunder echoes between the peaks, closer and closer the more Jongdae holds him tighter, their bodies starving to become one, breathing more and more shallow, until the familiar yet excruciating energy of lightning ripples around them.

Minseok jumps away, startled and worried, but Jongdae keeps him closer. “Don’t fear it,” he pants when more thunder makes Minseok flinch away. “It’s because of you, it’s for you.”

Minseok stares into his eyes, the sound of the wind filling his ears, Jongdae’s scent filling his nose, the energy permeating his own human skin. 

New electricity sparks when their lips touch again. This time Minseok presses even closer when there’s noise.

“It’s for you,” Jongdae whispers against his skin. 

Minseok is not sure he deserves it.

-

“I don’t think I’ve ever truly processed the loss of my sister,” Minseok says, leaning on Jongdae’s arm. They’re watching the sunset from the slope behind the hut, speaking of somber things, quietly but steadily, to help each other. “My parents, yes. But after my sister passed, there was so much to do that I never really stopped and took the fact in. Part of me probably believes she’s gone temporarily, like Kyungsoo. He kept asking when she’d be back. I wonder whether he stopped.”

Jongdae hums, hugging his knees. 

A thin black column of smoke rises above the roof of the hut, since they left the fire going. Since they’re not talking about pleasant things, the sky is full of enormous clouds that build upon themselves vertically for miles in height, starting from low on the Plains to above the peaks. In between those extraordinary and flimsy structures, the setting sun still manages to spray the sky with red and pink and purple, up on the vault of the world.

“I have never—mourned, for someone,” Jongdae says quietly after a while, playing with Minseok’s fingers. “The people I’ve known in my life were few, and the great majority of them I haven’t seen more than once. Many I simply don’t remember because I was a child. Maybe some of them died, but I remain ignorant of their whereabouts. I don’t know what it means to lose someone that way.”

Minseok shrugs. “I’ve been surrounded by it, and I still don’t understand it. Death. One day, something that was always there, is not anymore. That’s pretty much it.” He sniffles. “But you can’t do anything about it. The wrecking thing is that you cannot go back to how things were before, while almost anything else in life can be repaired.”

Nodding, Jongdae stares up at the sky. The colours of the sunset paint his irises, and he just keeps staring. “I know death. It’s part of Mother too. It’s probably part of me too. I can cause it. I caused it.” 

Before Minseok can say anything, Jongdae leans his head on his shoulder. “But it pains me that I cannot comfort you because I haven’t been through a loss like yours.”

“What about your mother?”

“Mother?”

“No, I mean... the woman who gave birth to you.”

Jongdae seems confused for a second. “Oh! Oh, you mean that. Well.” He clears his throat. “At the Sea, when a weather’s master or mistress is born, their family are considered as if they’re invested with some divine mission. Whether our purpose on these lands is actually divine or not, it’s not my place to judge,” he chuckles. “But the government makes sure the family receives all the economic aid to raise the kid, if they’re poor. The community makes an effort to help the parents, and the authorities ensure safety and provide aids for the education and the well-being of the kid.”

Minseok gapes. “What about the Plains?”

“You don’t know? As soon as a mother suspects that their child is a master of the weather, they are to give the child up to the Council. They are promised that the kid will be taken care of, raised properly in Su Do.”

“Your mother gave you up.”

“She did. It’s the law.”

“But she left you.” Minseok can’t really see Jongdae’s face in the twilight, and he wonders whether Jongdae can see his anger. “She left you. Everyone left you.”

Jongdae silences him, kissing him on his lips. “You haven’t left me,” he says against his mouth, and Minseok can feel, hear, taste his smile. 

Then he stands up. “Let’s go, Minseok. We still haven’t eaten.”

Minseok doesn’t stand to follow him until he hears the rustling sound of the door.

“Minseok?” Jongdae calls in the darkness.

“I’m coming.” Minseok stands, brushes his trousers, and stares at the rapidly disappearing profile of the peaks. 

_ You haven’t left me. _

-

“In your next letter you should ask them to bring you a chicken next time they come up here.”

Jongdae laughs, his naked chest moving under his cheek. “A chicken?”

“Yeah. Maybe two. So they can lay eggs for you to eat. For variety.” Minseok lifts himself up where he’s sitting with Jongdae in the turquoise pool of the brook, the water up to his navel. “Why not?”

“I will consider it. Maybe transportation will be a hassle for them, though.”

“I don’t think so. They will just hang a small cage on one horse. It doesn’t even weigh a lot.”

Humming, Jongdae takes the soap bar from the stones behind himself, and starts rubbing it between his hands and then in Minseok’s hair. “Why did you say they should bring  _ me? _ There’s two of us up here.”

Minseok swallows, thankful that he’s giving his back to Jongdae. “Because it’s your home, I’m just a guest.”

“No, you said it because you know you’re going to leave. Then why don’t you bring me a chicken when you come back?”

A turbulence of hundreds of different emotions paints a grimace on Minseok’s face. He hopes Jongdae wouldn’t be watching his reflection on the surface of the water.

“I’ve lost everything I owned, Jongdae. To the point that I couldn’t even keep my sister’s kids with myself because I couldn’t afford to feed them. I wouldn’t be able to find a chicken in the Plains with this drought, not a chicken I could afford to buy anyway. Let alone a horse to ride up here with chickens and other supplies for you. I would, if I could but—”

Jongdae’s fingers stop stroking his scalp. He spins him around, splashing water. “I was just teasing you, Minseok. I know the situation.”

Minseok knows his face is about to give him up. The options are, hide it under the water and maybe drown or something, or to put it so close to Jongdae’s that he wouldn’t be able to look at it.

He decides for the second, and kisses the weather’s master softly. “It’s fine.”

Jongdae mumbles something, but a thought distracts Minseok. “You know, maybe you were too young to remember, but courting on the Plains includes a lot of gifts. When there were things to gift, anyway.”

“Gifts? What sorts of gifts?”

“Anything. A series of at least ten gifts. Most of them intended to appease the family of the courted, more than the courted themselves.”

Jongdae whistles. “What would you gift Mother?”

_ My own head on a plate? _

“I don’t know her well like you do, Dae. You’ll have to advise me secretly.”

Jongdae’s laugh is delightful. “She already sees and knows everything. Even the things that the family of the courted wouldn’t find really proper, before marriage.”

“Oh, is that so,” Minseok hums, his hands dipping in the water to grab Jongdae’s waist and pull him closer.

Jongdae squeals, and lightning somewhere far away scares some poor animal into a run.

Minseok doesn’t even flinch anymore. He just smirks and kisses Jongdae some more. And then some more.

-

Despite knowing it was all destined to come to an end, Minseok can’t help but relax into his situation. 

He thinks of Baekhyun and Kyungsoo so often he even dreams of them at night, and knowing that they’re in the hands of the wisemen doesn’t allow him to ever have happy dreams. A few other times Jongdae encourages him to go back to them, but Minseok always dismisses his attempts saying that he has nothing to offer them, while Yixing can provide for them. While he is aware that unfortunately they haven’t actually been under Yixing’s care for a long while now, he is sure the Council is at least keeping them fed because they need them as leverage against him, in case he decided to disobey or he failed his mission to keep Jongdae bonded.

Speaking of which, Minseok couldn’t be more successful. Jongdae is, to quote Chan Yeol, very enamoured of him, and it would be all right if Minseok wasn’t at least twice as much. 

It doesn’t really pose a problem to him, though, except for making him fear the moment the wisemen might decide Minseok has to go back. On the other hand, it allows him to tolerate his exile on the Mountain a lot better, even though there isn’t a day he doesn’t wish he could just snatch the kids away from the wisemen, jump on one of Jong In’s venture vessels, and escape as far away as humanly possible. 

He’s stuck. 

And as time goes on, he melts into the routine of his simple life with Jongdae, and his worries become a muffled background to the shrilling, pristine emotions he feels every day he wakes up and goes to bed in the arms of the weather’s master.

But as it was foreseeable, it was destined to end.

And it ends in the worst possible way.

Jongdae had said that sometimes, Mother allowed him to take something from her. The reasons, the frequency, and the criteria was a mystery to Minseok, but the rare times Jongdae randomly proposed Minseok to set some traps for a rabbit he simply obeyed and took charge because he could sense that, however necessary, Jongdae never did those things gladly. He cooked and ate meat without fussing, but deep down inside he was disturbed. The sky was always whitish when he hunted, so Minseok assigned that task to himself.

Though he disliked it himself, being hungry and having to provide for other people had taught him not to mind.

The white of the sky does not surprise him, as he trudges back to the house with his spoils in a small sack and two quail eggs in his hands. He looted a nest, but he was careful to take only a part of the eggs. The previous time he had taken everything, and Jongdae had yelled until Minseok had run and put most of them back to make sure the progeny of that specific quail would survive.

But as he nears the clearing, Minseok sees through the treetops that the sky is darkening at sight. The temperature drops, a chilling wind clawing at Minseok’s clothes. He drops the eggs and the sack, speeding up.

The thunder is close and deafening, but Minseok is already running. Something must have happened. 

“Dae!” he screams, leaping through the foliage and into the meadow, his muscles burning because of the sudden strain. The first rain hits his face. “Dae! What happened?”

Jongdae turns around where he’s standing, next to the door. There’s a letter in his hands, and he’s trembling. 

Minseok stumbles to a stop, worried out of his mind. Out of the corner of one eye, he sees a pigeon flying in distressed circles over their heads. 

“What happened? Is it Jun Myeon? Are they all right? What’s the letter about?” he pants, getting closer with a hand lifted to protect his face from the cutting rain and the whirlwind of stray leaves.

Jongdae’s face is blank and expressionless, a striking contrast with the fury of the elements around them. He doesn’t react when Minseok takes his hand and tries to cross his gaze. 

“It’s for you,” Jongdae says quietly. His voice is so low, Minseok has to strain to hear it over the next thunder. 

A chasm opens inside of his chest, between his ribs and his spine. “For me?”

The first thought is that it might be about Baekhyun and Kyungsoo. Something about them being unwell, dead, even. 

It doesn’t really hit him, at the moment, that he should give weight to  _ who wrote _ the letter, rather than to who it was about.

Jongdae hands it to him. “From the Council.”

Minseok’s heart suddenly struggles to beat by itself.

Minseok doesn’t take the letter. And that moment of hesitation, of paralysis, of stupor, is enough.

Unperturbed, Jongdae slaps the paper onto Minseok’s chest. He only seems mildly annoyed, but Minseok knows him quite well. He knows his eyes, and at this moment he doesn’t recognise them. Not in the promises of terrible things he reads in them. Not in the blind wrath of an entity too big to be just Jongdae, too big to be faced, too ancient and wise.

With trembling hands, Minseok takes the letter.

_ “Minseok, We hope this finds you well. We are very satisfied with the results of your task. In Our previous letter We affirmed you needed to do more. With the present, We inform you that you have succeeded.” _

Minseok chokes. The air in his throat gets stuck, his lungs are empty. He whimpers. 

_ “We hoped you would deceive the Weather’s Master enough to bond him again to our Land. You exceeded our expectations; thanks to your qualities as a beguiler, our Plains have known a long period of nurturing rains. We and the People are grateful to you. You will receive your compensation as We promised.” _

The rain hits him in infrequent blasts. Minseok closes his eyes, his breathing uneven. It takes him a herculean effort to open them again and continue.

_ “Our instructions still stand. Hold the position. You are strictly forbidden from revealing anything to the Master until further notice. Do not hurt the Master yet, either physically or mentally. Your previous order to break his heart has been put on hold. _

_ We thank you for your service. It is a pleasure to have you act on Our behalf.” _

Minseok lowers his hands, not daring to look higher than Jongdae’s heaving chest, afraid to meet his burning eyes. 

Jongdae has read the letter. Jongdae knows. 

“Jongdae... I can explain—”

He nearly falls to the ground, he has to put a hand down to keep himself upright, the other still holding the letter against his face where Jongdae hit him. 

When he manages to stand again, staggering in the strong wind, Jongdae is pointing at the woods. “Go away.”

“Jongdae, please let me talk.”

Jongdae doesn’t move, his wrath intensifying each passing second. The wind is so strong Minseok has to reach for the wall to balance himself. 

“Jongdae you must believe me, I didn’t—”

Lightning hits the clearing. It’s so close that Minseok fears for his life.

“Try telling me again what I must and I must not do, Minseok, and I swear to Mother it will be the last thing you do.”

Minseok raises his hands in surrender. “You’re right. You’re right, and all of this,” he gestures to the tree canopies waving haywire. “It’s right. You have the right to be mad at me for what you read, but what the wisemen said is not what I feel and I—”

Another lightning. This time, Minseok has trouble talking afterwards because of the intensity of the energy. His teeth are chattering and he feels something warm in his ears, probably blood. 

He tries to reach for Jongdae, who pushes him away with a harsh shove. Once, twice, and the third time Minseok clings to the arms that have just pushed him to the ground. The clouds over them are purple and black, morphing so quickly they seem alive. 

They  _ are  _ alive. They are Jongdae.

“Dae, please! Please listen to me!” he screams over the sound of Nature rising up. “Yes, I’ve been sent here looking for you! I had no choice! But everything that happened since the moment I saw you, it’s been me!”

“You? Who are you?” Jongdae asks, voice low but somehow penetrating the continuous roaring of thunder. His eyebrows are drawn together, his eyes are dark, his pupils are dilatated, standing out against his pale skin.

“Dae, you have to believe me! I should have told you sooner, I should have been honest since the beginning, they forced me to come here, I could not disobey, they have the kids, and I swear, Jongdae, I swear, I never wanted to obey to their orders, I never wanted to break your heart—your heart is so dear to me, Jongdae—”

Buzzing, ice cold but scorching, the feel of Jongdae’s skin under Minseok’s palms is terrifying yet galvanizing, something is going on that Minseok cannot exactly comprehend. 

Jongdae’s eyebrows furrow and the sweet curves of his mouth break in a pained, vindictive grimace.

“Jongdae, I didn’t want to hurt you,” Minseok sobs, unable to tell where his own tears end and the sky’s tears begin. “I love you, Jongdae.”

Jongdae rips his arms away from Minseok’s hold, panting. For a long second, everything stops, everything is silent. The leaves that had been twirling in the air drop silently to the ground, the door stops slamming against the wall threatening to fall out of its hinges. The creaking of the woods slowly dissolves and the thunder is reabsorbed by the clouds as if the sky’s vault above sucked it away. 

The weather’s master reigns everything in, his eyes wide, his lips trembling.

Minseok wouldn’t dare, but his heart is hopeful for a second. 

Then it’s all back, twice as forceful. 

Minseok is drenched to the bone by the pouring rain, the daylight is substituted by the sparkles of the lightning that doesn’t reach the earth, a lattice of danger. 

Minseok’s last desperate move, his declaration, is the one that breaks Jongdae’s heart definitively. Because it’s the only thing Minseok had never said before and the only thing Minseok should never lie about.

And he didn’t lie.

But it’s too late now. Jongdae will never look at him without seeing the elegant calligraphy of the wisemen skimming in front of his eyes, mocking him for falling for it, for being blind and stupid, for offering himself as an instrument in their hands once again.

Jongdae straightens his spine. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll make you leave.”

“Dae... please…”

Jongdae points at the woods again. “Go. Before I lose control. Despite all you’ve done to me, I still don’t want to hurt you. You have to leave.”

Minseok stands up with difficulty. “I had no choice.”

“And I am giving you no choice now. Leave.”

“Dae…”

_ “Go!” _

Jongdae’s voice is so strong it pushes him away more effectively than an avalanche. 

Minseok runs.

-


	2. Chapter 2

Minseok almost falls to his knees when he sees the white gravel of the road under the soles of his boots. The colour is the ultimate confirmation that he made it back to the Plains, for he couldn’t believe his eyes. He thought maybe his vision had been deceiving him, or he had been completely lost on the wrong side of the Mountain, because if before he had looked at his own land wondering whether he had one of his uncle’s yellow coloured glasses in front of his eyes, now he’s quite sure someone has glued a green one to his face. 

He looks around himself; the dried up land he had left behind, grumbling under his breath about the Council, is unrecognisable. Minseok had memories of such landscapes from when he was much younger, but seeing the impenetrable green surrounding himself in all directions makes him inhale deeply to make sure the scent of his land would be the same. It’s not.

There’s life all around him. 

He touches the fresh, pale green leaves of a shrub to his right. They’re soft, like Jongdae’s skin on the back of his hand, that Minseok had loved to smooth with his thumb when they held hands.

Jongdae is everywhere. Everywhere Minseok looks, in the birds chirping and whistling in the low branches of a tree, in the yellow flowers on the side of the road, in the water he crouches to drink in a creek. 

He turns around; the top half of the Mountain is white, covered in snow, each day lower on the slopes. Jongdae is enveloping himself in a white blanket of sorrow. Minseok had woven that blanket.

He struggles to rip his eyes away from the Peaks and he starts walking. He walks and walks but it never rains, on the Plains. Jongdae doesn’t cry.

-

Minseok just wants to know what happened to Baekhyun and Kyungsoo. 

By now, seeing the approaching winter in the way it’s snowing on the Mountain and the temperatures are dropping, Minseok thinks that the Council must have understood that something did not go according to their plans. Either because Minseok had disobeyed their orders and broke Jongdae’s heart when they told him to wait instead, or because the weather’s master had found out about the real reason for his presence in other ways, they don’t know yet. And they probably don’t care.

Remembering their threats well enough, Minseok just hopes he reaches the wisemen and explains himself before they start planning on “repercussions” for his failure. They for sure do not expect his return, so maybe that will give him an advantage.

He needs to know he got to them before they disposed of Baekhyun and Kyungsoo. He has already lost Jongdae, he can’t lose them too.

Like the previous times, he’s asked to follow a registrar through the halls of the Seat of the Council in Su Do. And, just like the previous times, he’s not presented to the Council’s assembly. Instead he’s introduced in the room of the wisemen Council, consisting only of the five wisemen. The larger Council, the one of fifty individuals, is supposedly informed of everything afterwards but Minseok had been told to only deal with the high wisemen, given the delicate nature of his mission. Apparently no one outside of the room he’s currently in knows why he left the stables and disappeared for months. The wisemen had said that such secrecy surrounding his identity was necessary for his own safety and for the safety of the weather’s master, and Minseok believed them.

Minseok is received by the wisemen immediately and without objection. 

It surprises him, since he had thought he would be flanked by guards on their orders, or that he would be told to wait because they are always busy, being leaders, making laws or dumb decisions like the one of sending Minseok to seduce the weather’s master, or sitting around twirling their long beards through their bony fingers, doing what men that are supposedly wise should do.

Minseok stares ahead of himself, at the five figures clad in heavy-looking embroidered mantles, sitting next to each other behind a long table. 

He has watched the people surrounding him in the streets of the towns he crossed, he has stared at all the faces. He can barely recognise his own people in the laughing voices and the plump cheeks of a population that used to look gaunt and pale and ready to lash out. The wisemen, too, despite the emaciated tone of their elderly age, look like they benefited from the fruits of Minseok’s mission.

If he had a mirror Minseok would realise that he’s the last man of the Plains that looks like he’s suffering. Because he is; his suffering is the counterbalance to everyone else’s ease.

Minseok is hungry, tired, everything hurts inside and out. A part of him is bleeding into his soul and he knows it’s Jongdae’s current and future absence that is spreading out in his discomfort and desperation, stretching, aiming to fill him whole. 

The only thing that could make him feel better, the only stronghold of sanity he’s left with, is the prospect to hold his nephews in his arms. 

But as soon as the heavy wooden door closes behind him, leaving him alone with the wisemen, he understands that he won’t see them anytime soon.

Just one look at their unimpressed faces is enough. 

Realisation strikes him like lightning. Minseok understands it all now; he had thought he was their instrument to deceive Jongdae, while he was on Jongdae’s same side, the one of the deceived and the used. He had been so gullible.

The letter that ended Jongdae’s happiness crumples furtherly in Minseok’s palm when he realises they are not even slightly surprised to see him.

All this time Minseok thought Jongdae reading that letter had been an accident, and he had worried about having ruined their plan. But no... everything had played out exactly the way the wisemen had wanted. They hadn’t sent that letter to _ him; _ they had sent it to  _ Jongdae. _

Ever since the beginning  _ they  _ were the ones who wanted to break Jongdae’s heart, and they were the ones who ultimately did it.

They wanted to make Jongdae suffer to make him pay for what he had done to the Plains, and they would never delegate such honour to someone as insignificant as Minseok. They would never deprive themselves of such satisfaction brought by their arbitrary divine justice.

Belatedly, Minseok realises that Jongdae would have never opened a letter not intended for him, and even if he had a doubt he would have asked Minseok about it before even unlatching it from the pigeon. But the pigeon was sent to him, so Jongdae had not hesitated. The fact that the weather’s master had initiated a new close correspondence with Jun Myeon and he was always on the lookout for a carrier pigeon played in the wisemen’s favour, though they couldn’t know about it.

The Council had bypassed Minseok without an issue.

The member sitting at the far left of the table lifts the corners of his lips in a mocking smirk.

Minseok turns around to leave, but the guards posted at the sides of the door immediately block him.

“You knew!” Minseok yells, turning around and approaching the wisemen without deference or fear for the first time. “You did it on purpose!”

The wise sitting in the middle, the one who usually speaks on his members’ behalf, smooths his long white beard and sighs. “Knew what?”

Minseok snarls, slamming his fists on the table in front of him. He can hear the guards scrambling to stop him, but a small gesture from the man in front of him stands them down. Minseok is seconds away from jumping over the table to strangle him. His blood is boiling.

“Why would you do this? I could have stayed there with the weather’s master without an issue! He was already bonded to me, I’ve seen how green the land is now! It could have continued to be like that!”

“You did a good job, tying him to Us again. A pity that We needed his heart broken.”

“Why?”

“We have Our reasons.”

“What reasons? You wanted the rain, I have given it to you!”

The old man tilts his head. “We have Our reasons, Minseok.”

Minseok opens his mouth, then closes it. “Why didn’t you tell me? Wasn't there another way to get whatever it is that you wanted?”

The one who had smirked continues to plaster displeasing facial expressions over his wrinkled face. Minseok would very much like to plaster his dusty boot there instead. 

“What is it that upsets you so much, Minseok?” the man starts with fake concern. “You had seemed so... reluctant to leave the Plains. Now that you are here again with Us, you do not seem happy either.” He leans forward. “Was your stay on the Mountain pleasant, maybe?”

Minseok’s heart continues bleeding.  _ Pleasant? _ He’s about to yell. Yes, it was, because he had loved Jongdae and Jongdae had loved him back, and what he had thought was going to be the most awful time of his life had also been the happiest he had been ever since he could remember. But something prods at his attention and tells him to be very careful.

He cannot trust these men. First they lied to him when they sent him to the Mountain, telling him it was just a matter of time before he could come back, depending on how quick he was at breaking Jongdae’s heart, while the truth was that they never intended him to be back. The second time they lied to him, they told him Jongdae wouldn’t need his heart broken, yet, but went ahead and took over on the heart-breaking operation without caring about Minseok. They never cared about him.

He can’t let them deceive him a third time, so he hides his true feelings. “You should have told me that you wanted his heart broken, I should have been able to prepare myself. Or maybe you thought I wouldn’t be able to do it myself?”

Minseok wants to puke, disgusted by his own words, but the only thing that can save him now is to pretend he’s on their side if he wants to find out about their reasons. “Why did you task me with something you thought I wouldn’t be able to complete?”

“Oh, We know you would have been fitting, don’t be offended.”

“Then why did you do that? Why did you expose me like that? I almost got killed by his fury when he found out about your plan!”

The wise in the middle waves a hand. “Oh, that would have been an unfortunate sacrifice, We must admit,” he sighs. “However, a necessary one.”

Minseok doesn’t even want to address the complete disregard of value they just gave to his own life. He clenches his jaw. “Is my mission complete, then? Am I free?”

“We are afraid you are not,” the one sitting on the far right says hoarsely, with disappointment. “For you are here.”

Gaping, Minseok throws his hands up. “Of course I am here. Didn’t I just tell you about how he kicked me out of his home threatening to kill me? Besides, you got what you wanted. I can assure you his heart is  _ very  _ broken, I had no reasons to stay there any longer.”

The taciturn wise purses his lips. “Didn’t We state clearly that you shouldn’t return unless instructed to do so?”

“Are you deaf? I could not possibly stay there anymore!”

“Besides…” the bald one continues with unctuous remorse on his face. “It is snowing.”

“What do you mean? Of course it’s snowing. He’s still bonded and he’s suffering. Can’t you see the sky?”

“You caused a winter. We did not want a winter,” says the one who hadn’t spoken yet, one whose huge mantel didn’t do a good job at hiding his fat belly.

Incredulous and more and more confused by the second, Minseok has to shake his head, goggle-eyed. “That—I don’t see how the snow is my fault.”

“You broke his heart, it is your fault.”

“No, I didn’t—I did not!  _ You  _ broke his heart!” Minseok roars, slamming the palms of his hands on the table again and leaving the letter there. He points at it before he steps back.

The smirking one chuckles. “We broke his heart? We were not on the Mountain, Minseok.”

“That doesn’t even matter! How could I know he’d make it snow? How can you expect me to foresee his reactions?”

“It is your problem.”

“No, it’s not!”

“Yes, it is. You are now a prisoner of the Council, for having disrupted Our Lord the Weather’s Master. Hurting a deity is a grave crime. We can’t possibly let you go without angering Mother.”

“Wait a minute—what?”

“Believe Us, Minseok, it is also for your safety. The People will not like to know that the ice ruining all their crops is your fault. They might want to take it out on you, We think you’ll be safer in a cell.”

Everything starts spinning around Minseok. He shifts his gaze from wise to wise, he looks around, he blinks stupidly. He’s starting to feel helpless, and his ears whistle a little as his heart accelerates dangerously, threatening to leap out of his chest.

“It is not, I—where are Baekhyun and Kyungsoo?”

The small, bald member sighs. “Lost forever, Minseok. We told you there would be repercussions. Our last letter said explicitly that you should not hurt the Master either physically or emotionally.”

Minseok is gasping for air by now. “That letter was not even for me! You wrote a jumble of things that you knew would hurt him, and then sent it to him to break his heart!”

The fat one lifts a brow. “How can you say it was not for you?” He leans on the table to take the letter Minseok had left there. He smoothes it and pretends to study it for a second. “This letter has your name on it, Minseok.”

Minseok feels like the ground has started to swallow him and he can’t move anymore. This conversation is spinning in circles, but the more he tries to interrupt the loop, the more he gets buried. Nothing makes sense, and the sensation of being toyed with is unbearable. “But you sent the pigeon to him!” he stutters.

“Are you able to prove it, Minseok?”

The wise in the middle tuts, shaking his head. “So irresponsible, to let him spy on your post. We told you to be careful.”

_ This is the end. _

“Where are Baekhyun and Kyungsoo? What did you do to them?” Minseok pants. He can feel himself sweating profusely.

“They are lost forever, Minseok. They are very far away.”

“Where?” Minseok screams. “Tell me!”

“Somewhere you would not be able to find them, given the way you will be Our prisoner.”

“No!”

“Guards,” the one sitting at the far left boredly says, writing something on a parchment. “Take this to the Captain, he will know what to do.”

“No, no, no, wait—at least tell me where they are! I just need to know where they are!”

The bald wise shakes his head. “Knowing would only hurt you and make your days of incarceration far worse,” he informs him with honeyed voice. “We are really doing you a favour, here.”

“Are they even alive?”

“Yes. They are. They were when We sold them.”

“When you—when you did  _ what? _ Are you kidding me? What did you do?”

The guards receive the scroll from the wise and grab him under the armpits to drag him away.

“Please! Please save them!” he screams, his throat burning. “Please save them, I will do anything! Double my time in prison, take all my properties, I don’t care! Please save them!”

The wise in the middle chuckles. “Even if We considered it, it would be too late. You should have paid attention to Our orders. Your mission was very simple, yet you failed.”

“I did not fail!” Minseok tries to free himself, but they manage to pull him all the way to the door. “I did not fail! You sabotaged me, it was your intention all along! And now you’re using me as a scapegoat! You’re accusing me of something  _ you  _ ideated—I have never planned on hurting a deity! You sent me on that mission!”

“What mission?” the wise in the middle seems genuinely confused. “Are you insinuating We could ever plan on hurting a Child of Mother?”

“He should really watch his words,” the smirking one frowns. All of them shake their heads, affronted.

Minseok can’t single out who’s talking, lost in a fit of rage. “It was your plan and you executed it!”

“How could We? We haven’t seen the Weather’s Master in so many years.”

“You lied to me, you used me! You sent that letter!”

The smirking one fakes his surprise. “What letter?” He turns to interrogate his members. “What letter is he talking about?”

The fat one scratches his nose, shrugging. “I don’t know,” he answers while the others shake their heads in confusion.

The table is empty, there’s no letter in sight.

_ This really is the end. _

Minseok is fighting with his nails, now. “Let me go! The kids, they should not pay for this—they are just kids! They are only kids!” he screams on top of his lungs.

“Good bye, Minseok.”

“No!” Minseok hooks his ankle under one of the guard’s legs. The guard topples down and he tries to grip the doorframe, but he’s tackled to the floor. “Save them! I’ll pay instead. I’ll pay with my life if necessary—just get them back!”

The wisemen ignore him, standing up and walking away in orderly fashion, to one of the hidden doors in the back of the room.

“Please!”

No one listens to him. More guards arrive, and they manage to gag him and tie his hands.

-

Minseok is numb. He feels as if he was immersed in the icy waters of the rock pool on the Mountain, except that he should’ve gotten out of it hours ago. He can barely move, stiff and trembling, unable to breathe. 

He lost everything.

The guards make him kneel in a corridor, as one of them enters the station house to receive his new orders from the Captain. 

Minseok waits and waits, staring at the floor with blurry eyes, his head plummeting into a roiling state of panic, and he’s unable to stop the fall. 

He’s not even worried about himself, as if they didn’t just declare he’d be confined in prison for about his whole lifetime. No, he just feels weighed down by his own failures. He had lost Jongdae; hurt him unimaginably, destroyed his peace forever. And the only thing that kept him sane through this knowledge, the only thing that allowed him to keep going without hurting himself out of guilt, was that at least there was a light to all that suffering. That he had accepted the mission to ensure that Baekhyun and Kyungsoo would be safe.

But they won’t be. And Minseok had destroyed three lives, four if he bothered to include his worthless one, for nothing. 

The Council starts exiting the parlour, but Minseok can’t see anything through the curtain of thick despair in his eyes. Even if he wanted to look, from his position he wouldn’t see much more than a long series of red shoes and red mantles filing in the corridor in front of him, ignoring him, having been dismissed from their daily ruling duty which had included Minseok’s ruin.

But after a long time, something bothers him. 

A pair of red-clad feet is not leaving his field of vision. Someone is standing right in front of him, he can feel the weight of their stare.

“Minseok?”

Minseok lifts his head and right away he wishes he hadn’t done it.

It’s Yixing. He’s wearing the red robes of the Council, too.

Minseok has been such a fool. Such a fool. He almost laughs at himself.

And to think that Minseok had been  _ worried  _ for him, when he had realised the Council had taken the kids from him. He had worried they would have barged into his friend’s home to find them, hurting him when he would refuse. He had worried Yixing was torturing himself, feeling guilty for not being able to take care of the young lives his best friend had given him custody of.

Except that Yixing had probably already been a member of the Council back then. He had probably been chosen by the wisemen because of his ties with Minseok, and he had faked his friendship to make sure Minseok would leave Baekhyun and Kyungsoo under his wing once he offered. 

Yixing might not know what the wisemen are up to, he might have done what he thought was right, but Yixing is not stupid. He’s far more clever than the average person and he’s the smartest man Minseok knows, so he automatically excludes the hypothesis that Yixing had been deceived too.

Yixing is staring down at him with his mouth wide open. “Minseok?”

Minseok closes his eyes. He can’t talk, the gag in his mouth at least making sure his pitiful laments wouldn’t be heard.

“Minseok? What—let me through, I’m a member of the Council! I need to have a word with this man.”

The guards step away and soon Minseok sees red everywhere, as Yixing kneels in front of him. He tries to close his eyes and drag himself away, but Yixing undoes the gag and grabs his shoulders. “Why are you here? What is going on?”

“Please go away.”

“What happened?”

Minseok nudges him away. “Don’t pretend that you don’t know it, Yixing, as if you didn’t just discuss Jongdae’s heartbreak situation on today’s agenda in the Council.”

“What are you talking about? Who’s Jongdae?”

The laughter Minseok lets out is so ugly. “Don’t fool me. You can’t fool me anymore, Yixing. Please leave me alone, I can’t stand to look at you right now, I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Yixing looks at him in utter bewilderment. “What are you doing here? Why are you outside of the Captain’s office?”

“I am going to prison,” he answers slowly, like a madman. “Haven’t you heard? But you have heard for sure, given the way you’re wearing some pretty vests and you were warming your pretty leather seat in the fucking Council until now.”

“To prison? But Minseok—the Council doesn’t even know about you and the weather’s master. I know because  _ you  _ told me before you left. The wisemen never told us anything.”

The floor is particularly hard under Minseok’s knees. He wants to slam his head there, both to feel the cool of the marble on the feverish skin of his forehead, and to feel it hurt. Because it surely would hurt less than knowing that he had been so gullible to let five old men lie to him even about this.  _ We discussed this largely with the Council, _ they had said back then.  _ But We opted to deal with you Ourselves to reduce the risk of your exposure to danger. _

He had believed them.

So now he can’t believe anything else.

“Liar,” Minseok spits.

Yixing scoffs. “Why would I lie to you? The Council is not aware of you and your mission, I swear. The wisemen haven’t said a word to anyone, which goes against our laws, by the way. They cannot act without consulting the Council,” he says quickly but looking around to make sure no one would overhear. “But no one knows about you.”

“Please stop lying to me.”

“I would never lie to you, and you know it! I have never lied to you since we were kids!”

“Kids...” Minseok rasps. “How are the kids?” he spits out, defyingly.

Yixing closes his eyes, pained. “I am so sorry, Minseok. The kids—”

He hesitates. Minseok raises a brow, curious at least to see whether he would tell him the truth about this. Not that it matters anymore. 

But Yixing swallows. “The wisemen’s emissary came to my home and took them here three nights after you left.”

“And you let them take them?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Yixing whispers urgently. “They were armed and they threatened me and my parents if I didn’t give them up willingly. So I asked to make a deal. I asked to be introduced in the Council as a new member in exchange for their custody. There were five empty seats because of the losses from the drought. They thought I was just greedy for power, but my record is clean and I’m a prominent figure because of my father’s trades, so they said yes. Thanks to my new position I could keep an eye on the kids here at the Seat of the Council, and I came to know a lot of things about our land, about the weather’s master... most of them I wish I didn’t know, but that doesn’t matter now.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?”

“You must, because I am your friend. And if the wisemen just put you in prison, then because you have literally no one else right now.”

Minseok can feel his eyes fill with tears. “What happened to them?”

“Baekhyun and Kyungsoo lived here, they were cared for. I visited them as often as I could. The wisemen sent them away only four days ago, they—”

“They told me they  _ sold  _ them, Xing.”

Yixing looks pained. He wipes Minseok’s cheeks; Minseok hadn’t even noticed he had started crying again. What a pitiful, useless man. 

“Yes. They sold them to a merchant bound for the Islands. Slavery is legal, there.”

“But it’s not legal here!”

“Minseok,” Yixing says lowly, shrugging him lightly. “They think that since they’re the ones who make the laws of our country, they can be  _ above  _ the laws of our country. They think they are above the laws of Mother herself, just look at you and what you’ve been doing for the past few months!”

“They’re just kids,” Minseok breaths out, unable to even use his voice. “This is wrong.”

“This is wrong, and it shouldn’t be happening. I am trying to look for a way to expose their wrongdoings, but I can’t report to the rest of the Council without admitting I know about your mission. I could be accused of high treason for that, and I’d be killed within the day without trial, on their word only. They don’t want anyone to know what you’ve been tasked to do, Min! That’s why they are locking you away now. The greatest part of the population kept venerating Mother despite the drought. If they found out the wisemen meddled with the divine like that,  _ disrespected  _ it like that, it would be the end of the wisemen. You, too, even though you didn’t have a choice, because you were blackmailed into becoming the instrument in their hands.”

At this point, Minseok has no other choice than to believe Yixing. He supposes in his state of dejection he would believe anyone, because if he loses his grip on the banks the flood will drag him away and eventually drown him. But this is Yixing.

Yixing whose dimpled smile had been ever present since Minseok’s childhood, despite their class differences. Yixing’s father had brought his son to the stables to choose his first ever horse, and Yixing had shown absolutely no interest in the horses put on display for him because he was too busy playing with Minseok and his sister in the hay. The three of them had been inseparable.

So Minseok leans forward, putting his forehead on Yixing’s shoulder. “I loved him, Xing.”

“Who?”

Minseok doesn’t answer, and Yixing’s quiet gasp lets him know he understood. He rubs his back with vigour. “Min.”

“They did what they needed to do, and I lost everything.”

“They should be giving you a prize.”

“They said they didn’t want a winter.”

“What a bunch of crap. The People are celebrating the return of the seasons. Every evening our people dance around the fires in the town squares thanking Mother for coming back. No, the wisemen want you in prison because they want you silent. They know that if anyone knew about your mission, chaos would ensue.”

“I’ve done my part, I lied to an innocent creature up there—Jongdae didn’t deserve any of this, and I did it for the kids, but they’re lost now, Xing, what am I going to do?”

Yixing looks around quickly. “I don’t know. I don’t know, Min, they’re too powerful, but this cannot continue happening.” He draws away. 

“I could help you escape, but I can’t look into the wisemen’s business without them putting me in prison, too. This means I can’t help you find the kids. You’ll have to search for them on your own.”

“What? Xing, I’m going to  _ prison, _ ” Minseok hisses.

Yixing ignores him and continues talking quickly. “They have four days of advantage, the merchants are obviously going to set sail from Hang Gu at the Sea if they’re going to the Islands, that’s the only port, but you can do it if you use one of your silvers.”

Minseok groans, beyond exasperated. “I don’t have any horses anymore and you know it.”

“But I have one,” Yixing reminds him quietly. “Do you remember him?”

Of course Minseok remembers Hilro. He remembers every single horse that ever walked in or out of his stables. Yixing’s horse had been a gift that Minseok and his family had given him six years ago, one of the fastest geldings they ever bred.

Once Minseok has nodded once, confused, Yixing smiles. “Good. Stay alert. I’ll see you again, hopefully not too soon. You have stuff to do.”

“Yixing, what—”

“We’ll meet again,” Yixing whispers, patting his shoulders and standing up. He walks past Minseok, who cannot turn to look for him because of the way they tied him.

He’s left in a state of utter befuddlement. The Captain of the Guard finally comes out of his stationing and Minseok is led to the ground floor, through hallways with high ceilings where rusty chandeliers swing idly in the draughts coming from the side corridors. Then he’s out in the open, in a huge square yard surrounded by a colonnade. In the shadows of the covered walkway, countless doors conceal miserable beings in cells that held innocent and guilty men and women of the Plains down the ages, a crowd that is soon going to welcome Minseok as one of their own.

The encounter with Yixing has already left his mind, fear the only thing replacing every other sentiment. He drags his feet, trying to delay the moment in which a door will close on him for the last time.

He’s led to an empty cell and he’s abandoned in the claustrophobic space. A small window with bars on it is the only source of light. The dubious comfort of innumerable graffiti left by those who preceded him is the only source of company.

Minseok turns around himself many times, but that is not the reason why everything around him is spinning. He’s supposed to spend the rest of his life there. But before he can even fully comprehend the weight of his sentence, something hits his back. A pebble rolls on the floor of rammed earth.

He looks around, but he’s obviously alone. Confused, he wonders whether the cell is crumpling on his head, shortening his sentence of quite a bit, when another pebble hits him in the face.

“Ouch!”

He hears rustling, then a clinking sound. He’s about to let it go, wondering whether there’s a street on the other side of the wall and people like to torture the prisoners for fun whenever they stroll nearby, when he hears the snort of a horse. 

Yixing had said something about horses.  _ Stay alert, _ he had said.

Minseok freezes. 

After a while he decides to try to spy outside. He jumps to grab the bars on the window and lift himself, and at the third attempt he jumps high enough to grip them.

He falls back on his ass inside the cell. He looks at the bars in his hands.

_ What the hell. _

It takes him another series of painful attempts (one of the many times in his life in which he regrets being short) before he can hoist himself over the window. 

The street outside is deserted, and waiting nearby is Yixing’s silver horse, obediently waiting, his reins dangling as he browses the weeds at the roadside. 

Minseok almost laughs. Suspended between euphoria and dread he crawls, trying to fit his body in the small square of the window, now thankful for his small size for a change.

“Hilro!” he calls in a whisper. 

The horse turns his pointed ears and lifts his head. Minseok has never been prouder of the work of his family, generations of men and women who dedicated themselves to breeding and training the most clever horse breed that ever walked the lands. He clicks his tongue thrice, looking around, but the street is empty and silent. “Hilro!”

The gelding strolls in his direction, his placid dark eyes shiny and intelligent. Chafing his skin against the rough window frame and the amputated iron bars, Minseok tumbles outside, almost falling on his face from the height of two stories. Everything is so quick he can’t even process it. The adrenaline keeps a crazed smile on his face, but he mounts and spurs the gelding without further hesitation, leaving Su Do behind.

-

Minseok halts Hilro at the crossing, his chest heavy with pain knowing that either road would be the wrong road ahead and there’s no certainty about the right choice to handle the future of the people he loves. 

But Minseok knows the wisemen have sent people looking for him. He knows he’s officially a fugitive, and that the Plains are on the lookout. But he also knows what the wisemen think: that his priority is Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, that Jongdae would kill him if he saw him again, and that he’s not the most clever man they ever dealt with.

He can maybe agree with them on every point on the list including the last, but he cannot stay free much longer if he acts according to what they expect him to do. So he turns the gelding to the left, staring at the somber decline of the sun under the ceiling of clouds that has been the only sight of the people of the Plains ever since Minseok broke Jongdae’s heart. 

With a last glance to the road to the Sea, he raises the hood of his mantel. 

“Yah!” he spurs his mount, and he leaves the kids behind.

Again.

-

It keeps snowing. It’s the only thing that allows Minseok to sleep at night, laying down next to the form of the gelding to stay as warm as possible.

Snowing means that even if someone followed him, his tracks would be covered by new layers every day, and would be impossible to tell apart from the ones of the deer, the hares, the squirrels, and all the other creatures inhabiting the mountain slopes. 

But he’s almost sure no one would be following him. He had told the wisemen he almost got killed by the weather’s master, they would never imagine he would spontaneously seek asylum with him. 

And it’s true. Minseok is putting a lot of things on a bet, by trying to reach Jongdae again. But the only other way he knows to get to the Sea without getting caught, is over the Mountain, through the pass above the hut inhabited by the weather’s master.

He knows he’s not welcome. But he needs to talk to him, even just one last time. Repeat his words, tell Jongdae he had truly loved him, not because he expects the other to forgive him, but because he needs to. He still loves him. He will continue to love him for a long time, and part of him will probably never be able to move on from him and will continue loving Jongdae for the rest of his life. 

He just wants Jongdae to know. Then, he will continue to the Sea, and in some way to the Islands, and he will rescue Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, hoping they would be still alive and nothing bad has already happened to them. 

It’s a risky, ill-considered plan. Part of him expects Jongdae to hear him, as he always does, and be so upset he would send an avalanche to bury him and stop his little, stupid life.

Part of him just wants to make sure Jongdae is all right, too. Of course he’s not, given the way every day the world turns a little grayer and tiny snowflakes fall continuously for hours on end, slowly, dancing in the still air, without hurry. But Minseok still needs to make sure that the damage hasn’t been irreparable. 

Vain hope; he had done all he could to break Jongdae’s spirit. If he had only deceived Jongdae, the weather’s master would have given him fickle affection in return. But no, when Minseok had opened his very soul and handed it out to Jongdae to treasure, Jongdae had given him just as much in return. 

Because they had loved each other. Love only stirs love.

The silence is so thick, Minseok feels observed. He wonders whether Jongdae has detected his presence already, and why he’s not acting on it. But he keeps trudging on, walking under the trees, keeping as close as possible to their trunks where the snow hasn’t whitened the ground in order to leave as little traces of his passage as possible. He leads the gelding carrying the very few things Yixing had left for him in the saddlebags; blankets, an extra cloak, some food that is almost finished, bread that turned as firm as a stone and some cheese. Nothing heavy, but Minseok chooses to walk for hours not because he doesn’t want to exhaust the poor animal, but rather because he would freeze to death if he stayed unmoving on the saddle for hours on end. 

His only company are the warm clouds of his and the gelding’s breath, and the sound of their steps on the dry, velvety soil, or the crunch of the twigs and the branches when they step on them, or the rustle of his feet on the crisp snow when it’s the morning and it’s dry, on the very limit before turning to ice.

-

_ Here goes nothing. _

Minseok stops at the edge of the clearing, to give Jongdae the time to shut the door, run, come out and yell, whatever he needs to do.

He’s itching to just barge inside and scoop Jongdae’s body into his arms, apologise a thousand times and then kiss him a thousand times and then some. Instead he stops there and waits for his breathing to slow down. He leads Hilro to the tree of the clothesline and secures his reins to one of the lowest branches. He keeps waiting, looking at the sky, hoping for something, anything, to change. But the sky is immobile, and that quiet and inexorable snowfall continues. 

Minseok’s hands tremble, when he realises it must be because Jongdae is not there anymore. 

So he walks to the door, his eyes wide because he struggles to accommodate in his mind the sight of such a familiar landscape, so changed and so colorless. 

The door is ajar.

“Jongdae.”

He waits, facing the crack of the door, showing the inside of the hut. Everything is how he left it, the carpet, the fireplace, the rows of colorful books bedecking the walls like jewels, one to celebrate each day of solitude Jongdae has spent in their company.

Nothing happens for so long that Minseok decides to step inside.

There’s no one in sight, so he’s discouraged at first. It’s as cold as outside, a little dusty, the warmth of the wooden furniture and the colorful carpets completely lost. But then he peers inside Jongdae's bedroom, and his heart stops.

“Jongdae... it’s me.”

“I know.” Jongdae nods, his back to him. “I heard you in the wind.”

Minseok exhales. He doesn’t know how to proceed now. He expected lightning, and fury. What he should do, or say, in front of this? How is he supposed to control the wild beating of his heart, that is making the only noise within miles?

“Jongdae... please…” Minseok drops his satchel to the floor and drags his feet to Jongdae. His immobile figure is sitting on the trunk under his open window, his legs tucked under his body. His arms are leaning on the balcony, his hands covered in freshly deposited snow.

Minseok doesn’t know how to act, but the instinct to protect Jongdae is deeply rooted in him, as it had always been, despite how things ended between them.

“Jongdae, close the window, what are you doing? You’re going to freeze to death.”

Jongdae barely flinches when Minseok touches his shoulder, his gaze still lost on the landscape outside. Minseok guides his arms inside and closes the window, brushing the snow from Jongdae’s sleeves. He doesn’t feel confident to touch his hands yet, but he’s reassured by the warmth that seeps through the fabric of Jongdae’s shirt. 

“I already told you once,” Jongdae absently says. “Mother cannot hurt me.”

Minseok is shaking, not because of the cold. “You’re so pale.”

“The weather cannot hurt me. What is part of me cannot hurt me.” Then he tilts his head a little, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Well. Unless that part of me is you.”

Minseok stills.

The snow keeps falling vertically. There’s no wind. Where’s the anger Minseok expected and deserved?

“Jongdae, I’m sorry. This—this is because of me?”

“What?”

“The snow. It’s... everywhere. You…”

“Everything is dying, isn’t it?” Jongdae mutters, snow crystals falling from his hair when he bows his head. “I can feel it. It doesn’t make me happy. Mother is not happy, but she allows me to grieve.”

“To grieve? Jongdae, what are you talking about?”

“She’s allowing me this pain. It wouldn’t make sense for her to not let me, right? After all, that’s what she made me for. To feel. And here I am. Feeling.”

Jongdae stands up. Minseok can’t help grabbing his hand. Between their warm skins, snowflakes slowly turn to water and drip along their fingers. 

“What are you saying?” Minseok asks, with a broken voice. “Grieve? Jongdae, I am here, and I came to tell you—”

For the first time, Jongdae looks at him and his words die in his throat. His eyes look hollow, darker than usual. 

With his wet hand, Jongdae gently cups Minseok’s cheek. “Minseok. That part of me is dead. It’s been dead since the moment that carrier pigeon arrived. It’s fine; at least you can’t hurt me anymore.” He lets his hand slide. “Light the fireplace, take something to eat, sleep, recover your strength. Then please return to your home in the Plains. You don’t belong here anymore.”

Minseok follows him as he walks to the door, probably to go outside and walk in the forest, barefoot as usual. 

“Jongdae. I don’t have a home in the Plains anymore.”

“Just like me. But this cannot be anyone else’s home than mine. The two of us cannot stay here, and I haven’t known what’s beyond here. I wish that to remain unchanged. I’m sorry. Go back to your nephews, your home is where they are.” Jongdae doesn’t stop. His feet disappear in the snow without a sound, the white engulfing him to his ankles.

“They took Baekhyun and Kyungsoo,” Minseok spits out, and he knows there’s nothing more unfair than the way he’s dumping his pain over Jongdae, who already suffered so much because of him, to the point of consuming himself in Mother. 

Jongdae’s steps falter. He stops. 

Minseok feels the warmth of his tears on his face, just as the sky grows darker. “They took them. They sold them to the slave traders of the Islands. They’re lost.”

Jongdae trembles. For a second he looks like he’s about to turn around and gift Minseok one of his seemingly endless, painstaking glances that invests his soul thanks to the wisdom he inherited from his Mother.

But Jongdae just partially moves his head, looking up at the sky. “I’m really sorry, Minseok.”

The clouds don’t move, the sun rays don’t filter through, the wind doesn’t ruffle the few dried leaves that adorn the trees at the border of the clearing, on those lower branches that haven’t been covered in snow yet.

Jongdae walks away.

The path of his footprints on the snow of the clearing is interwoven with those of all the animals that wandered near the house looking for food, or simply trying to find their way home after the drastic change in scenery brought by the white mantle of Jongdae’s sorrow. Minseok’s own line of footsteps looks so out of place, so unharmonious, that he once again wonders what he’s doing there. Why did he dare to hope he could find Jongdae’s forgiveness on those snow-covered peaks? When did he start presuming he could ever deserve it?

Maybe he just wanted to make sure Jongdae was still there, safe, if broken hearted.

He doesn’t know that Jongdae flinches and has to put a hand on the frozen bark of a pine tree to hold himself upright, when a tear rolls on Minseok’s face, down his cheek, to his chin, and then drops. Jongdae feels how it melts the snow, and he’s suddenly not so sure that he has managed to isolate Minseok from himself as much as he intended to.

-

Minseok wakes up when it’s dark outside. He had sat down in front of the fireplace after closing all the windows, trying to soak in the warmth of the little, fickle fire he had managed to start. 

He opens his eyes and for a second he’s confused. He’s laying down on the floor in front of a bigger fire, that looks like it had been rekindled just a minute ago, crackling and lively. 

Over his achy body have been draped both his capes, and a blanket that Minseok knows very well because he has slept naked underneath it, his arms around Jongdae, for many nights in a row. A bowl full of food has been left on the floor in front of him, and the saggy saddlebags of the gelding are now in a pile next to the door. He can see the profile of the horse’s back outside of the window, barely lit by the light of the fire that is the only light in the night. He’s resting against the wall, his reins probably tied to the metal hooks in the wall of the hut.

He sits up, looking into the fire. It must be almost dawn.

He jumps when a pitcher is deposited next to the bowl. 

Jongdae doesn’t react. He leaves the water next to the food, he stands upright again, and walks to his room without saying anything. 

“Dae?”

“Don’t call me like that.”

Minseok flinches. “Wait!”

Jongdae turns around. The flickering, orange light that fills the room does nothing to make him look any less pale. “Eat, sleep, regain your strength. You’re leaving soon.”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?” Minseok asks, shrugging the mantels off.

“You know why, Minseok.”

“No, I don’t, you have all the right to be furious, you could try to kill me and I wouldn’t even find it wrong.”

“If you think that I would let you freeze to death outside of my door, you don’t know me very well.”

Minseok wants to object, but in the end he just stares. Jongdae looks stunning, as usual, despite the harshness of his suffering painted on his features. 

“Jongdae—”

“Obviously, if you also think that me not leaving you to die in the woods means I have forgiven you, it means you don’t know me at all.”

“I would never think that. I just don’t understand…” he gestures at the fire, at the food. “What does this mean.”

Jongdae smiles sadly. “Use your head. You’re clever. It’s snowing, isn’t it? How long since the last time you’ve seen the sun? You have always had a privileged access into my emotions, Minseok, much to my chagrin. Read the sky like you’ve always done. You’ll find your answers.”

The bedroom door closes, and Minseok is left alone to stare at the blanket in his lap. 

When he understands, he covers his face with his hands. 

Jongdae hasn’t ruptured his bond with the Plains. And since his bond is subject to his feelings for Minseok, Jongdae must still love him despite everything.

-

Minseok sleeps for most of the following day, feeling unwell. His temperature is higher than normal, and his head hurts, and the room starts spinning around him whenever he tries to stand. The time it takes him to recover from the headache is enough to make him doze off again, and when he actually manages to stand and look around to find out it’s evening again, Jongdae materialises next to him and leads him to the nearest chair before he can trip and break his face open against the girder of the fireplace. It’s a deja vu.

“You’re sick. Don’t move.” Jongdae pushes a warm bowl in his hands. “I made the bed for you. Sleep when you’re done eating.”

Minseok obeys. He tries to call his name, once, twice, thrice, whenever Jongdae transits in the room to make some food for himself or to wander off to yet another one of his lonely walks in the woods. But Jongdae only throws him a glance, before he disappears. 

Another night goes by.

The next morning, the fire has managed to warm up the entire hut and Minseok feels well enough to change his clothes, get some snow outside and melt it on the fire to wash himself a little. On instinct he takes care of the room, tidying up after himself, folding the blankets, and washing the bowls where he ate. 

“Don’t get too comfortable. You’re leaving soon.”

Minseok freezes, his arms immersed in the basin to the elbows. He slowly rinses his clothes and wrings them out. 

He turns around. Jongdae is like a ghost, wearing white against the white of the snow outside of the door. 

Before he can say anything, Jongdae exits the hut again.

Minseok finishes his chores and lays down to rest. 

-

“Minseok.”

Minseok wakes up with a start. He probably hadn’t been asleep for longer than one hour, because there’s still light outside. 

Jongdae is standing next to the bed, staring at him. He looks pale, and he’s wearing a white shirt. There’s snow in his hair again.

He looks so beautiful, and fragile. 

Minseok tries to sit up, but freezes when Jongdae speaks. “Chan Yeol is here.”

Stumbling out of bed, Minseok can feel his heartbeat accelerate. “What?”

Jongdae turns around and walks outside, probably to greet his friend. 

Minseok can’t breathe. Jongdae had probably known that Chan Yeol was arriving, he could always hear his steps in the earth and the wind, now turned to ice and clouds, so it doesn’t make sense for him to only say it now. Unless that had been his purpose; unless Chan Yeol had been aware of what happened and had come to avenge his friend. 

Either way, Minseok is screwed. 

He pants, looking around in the room, and his breath flows away in clouds. He’s freezing, now that he left behind the comfort of the blankets in front of the fire that has died who knows how long ago. 

He can’t hide, and he doesn’t want to. 

Minseok walks outside and doesn’t hesitate to turn around the corner.

Loey is majestic as usual, the color of his dark bay fur stands out like red blood against the whiteness of the landscape. Chan Yeol never looked small next to him, but now he does because of the way he’s hunched to hug Jongdae against himself. 

That’s what makes Minseok stop. He’d never deprive Jongdae of a moment with a loved one.

“Chennie, oh, Mother. Are you all right?” Chan Yeol rubs Jongdae’s back as if he wanted to warm him up, which makes perfect sense. It’s hard to remember he can’t be cold, when he’s standing with the snow up to his knees, only wearing light trousers and a slim shirt. Minseok has wanted nothing but to throw a blanket on him every time he saw him ever since he got there. 

Upon receiving no responses, Chan Yeol worriedly doubles the strength of his hugging and rubbing motions. “Chennie? I’m so sorry this happened. I would have gotten here sooner, but I—”

He finally shuts up when Jongdae responds to the hug he had evidently fallen into, by raising his arms and circling Chan Yeol’s neck, as much as the multiple layers of heavy clothing the other wore allowed. He’s probably not used to such harsh weather conditions. Minseok remembers how they said they only ever saw the snow at Sea once in their lives when they were very little, and it had been the first time in over a century.

Minseok takes his eyes off them. He wishes he could hug Jongdae that way, too, rock back and forth slowly, comfortingly, as Chan Yeol is currently doing. Without past events tainting the sincerity of the gesture between them.

Chan Yeol eventually stands upright again and sees Minseok’s horse. A second later, his eyes land on Minseok, and it’s a tense repeat of a scene they already lived.

“What.”

Jongdae puts a placatory hand on his upper arm. 

Chan Yeol almost crushes him in his haste to stomp over to where Minseok is standing, shivering. “What—what is  _ he _ doing here?”

“Chan Yeol, have you found them?” Jongdae asks.

The sailor stops, opens his mouth, closes it. He grimaces. “I am not sure I want to tell him.”

Jongdae raises one brow. “We cannot assume the right to decide what’s best for Minseok’s family.”

_ For my what now? _

Chan Yeol fidgets, staring back at the weather’s master. The latter is inflexible. “Have you found them, or not?”

After a little pondering, that Jongdae doesn’t interrupt, Chan Yeol nods. “Yes.”

Jongdae relaxes. 

Minseok clears his throat. “What?”

Chan Yeol makes to talk, but Jongdae is faster. He turns to face Minseok, still keeping a distance of a few meters. “Chan Yeol and the others have checked on me very often ever since they saw the peaks were white. They wrote to me so assiduously that sometimes more than one pigeon arrived in the same week. I hadn’t answered their last letter when you arrived here, Minseok, so I sent a message to Jun Myeon.” 

He pauses, gauging Minseok’s reactions. “I told him I came to know the Council sold your sister’s kids to the slave traders directed to the Islands, and asked him whether there was a way to rescue them from the trade since they would transit in their port. I also told him to send the answering pigeon to Chan Yeol, since I had listened to his steps.” He turns to Chan Yeol. “You shouldn’t be here, I told you I was all right.”

Chan Yeol sends a long, distrustful look to Minseok, before answering. “Maybe it’s better that I came anyway.”

Minseok feels like he’s about to bolt out of his own skin. “So?”

Chan Yeol is almost reluctant to talk to him directly, but in the end he finds the resolution. “Jong In couldn’t sail on his last two jobs because the Islands’ monsoons have been especially bad. It was convenient. According to what Jun Myeon wrote to me, it meant two things: the slave traders couldn’t sail either, and Jong In was available to put all his... questionable acquaintances to good use.” 

He adjusts his cape on his shoulders, glancing at Jongdae who was the very definition of static. “As soon as he knew, he was set on rescuing the kids. You know how he is,” he adds fondly. “So he contacted some pirates. Se Hun went with him when they talked to the traders. The sky started to clear out, and they were scared they would sail the next morning, so they put our money together and they bought them.” He swallows. “They’re hidden in one of Jun Myeon’s shipyards now. They’re taking care of them.”

The air leaves Minseok’s lungs in one long shaky exhale. His next inhale is difficult, the air is freezing and arrives in small jumps, seeing the way he’s basically sobbing.

“Thank you,” he chokes out.

Chan Yeol shakes his head. “We didn’t do it for  _ you,” _ he says. “Especially not after what you did to Chen.”

Jongdae lifts his gaze to look at Chan Yeol.

Chan Yeol studies him for a second. “I don’t think we’ve done it for you either. It was the right thing to do. Children should never pay for their family’s mistakes.”

Jongdae pats his arm, a smile on his face.

None of them does anything about the breakdown Minseok is currently having. And they shouldn’t, really, so when Jongdae walks in his direction his first reaction is to step back. 

Jongdae stops between them. “Minseok, you will leave with Chan Yeol right now. You will go to the Sea, take care of your sister’s kids, leave these lands with them. The Council is looking for you.”

Chan Yeol’s protest is suffocated by Minseok’s hurried “I know, I escaped,” but Jongdae is not done. 

“They’re looking for you  _ here. _ They’re coming here. I hear them.”

Silence falls upon them. 

“What?” Chan Yeol yells.

Jongdae looks at him. “The emissaries of the wisemen. They’re on their way.”

Minseok shakes his head, his tears cold beads on his skin, long forgotten. “No, they’re not coming for me. I left them a fake lead, they were putting me in prison, but I escaped. They’re convinced I went looking for the kids at Sea—they think I have no reason to come back here! Jongdae, I would  _ never  _ put you in danger like that!” He ignores the way Chan Yeol scoffs. “They’re looking for me somewhere else. If they’re coming, it means they’re coming for  _ you. _ ”

Jongdae seems genuinely surprised and unable to react for a second. 

“What do they want? Are they not happy with this?” Chan Yeol roars, opening his arms to embrace the frozen scenery. “What else could they want from him? To imprison him? To bend his will to their purposes even more? Have they not learned their lessons?”

Jongdae has his mouth open.

Minseok welcomes the feeling of the wind on his skin, even though it freezes him to the bones, because it means Jongdae is returning to life. He’s feeling, he’s not apathetic anymore. It’s positive, but Minseok wishes the feelings that are shaking him were not such negative ones.

When Jongdae, utterly lost, looks in his direction as though looking for help, Minseok feels more grounded. 

Chan Yeol steps between them. “That’s it. You’re coming with me to the Sea, Chen. I don’t care.”

Jongdae shakes his head. “No, Yeol, you already have a weather’s mistress, I can’t—”

Chan Yeol grabs his arms. “And she will keep doing what she has to do. You—you’re still bonded to the Plains, right?”

Jongdae glances at Minseok for a long second, then he turns back to Chan Yeol. “Yes.”

“Then come with me—with us. We can hide you. Ship you off on some vessel if necessary and keep you in the offing for as long as we need to. You are the living proof that you don’t need to be on the land that you reign over for your powers to be effective, right?”

“I don’t ‘reign over’ anything, Yeol—”

“Whatever! There won’t be an issue with our mistress. You can’t stay here. After all they’ve done to you because of their ignorance and their perfidy? No. I will  _ drag  _ you down this mountain if I have to. I can’t let them hurt you any more than what they have already done.”

Jongdae’s smile is wobbly and resigned. “I don’t think they could hurt me more even if they tried,” he says, his voice thin and young.

Chan Yeol’s nostrils are flaring, by now. He glares at Minseok before he continues his persuading arguments. “We will discuss him at length, do not worry. I believe a few punches will be thrown. But there’s no time now! How far are they?”

“They don’t have the exact location of my hut, but not far at all.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Minseok explodes. “Go! Dae, you’ll be safe at the Sea. The Council has no idea about your friendship with the Sea people, I’m sure of it. They would never look for you there.”

Both look at him as if he just grew an extra limb. “What about you?” Jongdae asks, with that same shaky voice that does not belong to his character.

Minseok shrugs. “They’d be probably happy to find me, I can hold them off, tell them I was looking for you but you had already left and I don’t know where you went.”

Jongdae frowns and breathes in, the way he usually does when he’s ready to yell. Chan Yeol is faster. “Listen. I did not let Jong In meddle with the fucking pirates again so you could reunite with your family, just to let this happen. I see you have a nice horse, that’s great. Put a cloak on and let’s go. Chennie, you ride with me.”

Jongdae shakes his head. “I’m not sure I—”

Chan Yeol grunts and picks him up bodily, hauling him onto Loey. “Great. Anything you want me to pack? You have five minutes.”

Jongdae wordlessly shakes his head, grabbing the saddle horn to stabilise himself. 

Minseok follows Chan Yeol inside. “Great Jongdae management, out there,” he comments, collecting his few belongings.

“Don’t talk to me, I’m still not sure I don’t want to drown you in the bay,” Chan Yeol snarls, marching off to the pantry. He swings the door open and disappears inside. Soon Minseok hears the familiar noises of the supplies being taken out of their drawers. 

Minseok fills his saddlebags in silence, making sure not to leave behind anything that could make anyone imagine that he’s been there before. When he’s done, he looks around. 

“Chan Yeol,” he calls. 

Chan Yeol ignores him from where he’s piling jars in a canvas bag. 

“Chan Yeol, you brought so much stuff to this place,” he tries again. “Do you think that someone from the Plains would realise it had been made by people of the Sea?”

The tall man now stops and looks around. He mutters something to himself, grabs another bag, and scurries around grabbing random objects from the pantry and Jongdae’s room. In the meantime, Minseok keeps packing what they could need to travel. “When you arrived, did you think this place was made by someone other than your people?” Chan Yeol interrogates.

Minseok shrugged. “My people were the only people I knew. But no, it never crossed my mind that someone else would have laid hands on this place, though the amount of books was surely suspicious.”

“There’s your answer. Let’s hope your people are like you,” Chan Yeol grumbles, and nods towards the door. “I guarantee that books look the same in our countries.”

Minseok fixes the saddle of Yixing’s horse, drapes a cape over himself and mounts. Chan Yeol does the same, except that he puts a cloak around Jongdae’s shoulders as well. “For my own peace of mind, Chen, I know you’re not a simple human like us but you make me freeze just staring at you,” he keeps grumbling. “And for Mother’s sake,  _ please  _ put your boots on, here.”

Jongdae chuckles, more out of politeness than out of actual amusement. He wears his boots but he keeps throwing glances at his surroundings, nervous, and Minseok notices that the wind has stopped but the sky is getting too dark too quickly for it to be sundown. Everything looks blue, and Jongdae looks nauseous.

Minseok spurs Hilro next to Jongdae with a gentle tap of his heels. The horse obeys gracefully, trudging in the piles of snow. 

“Jongdae, you will come back here. One day, you will come back home,” he says lowly, only for him to hear. “I am sorry that our people wouldn’t let you live comfortably even during a time of suffering. They…” He clenches his teeth. “They will pay, one day.”

Dumbfounded, Jongdae simply nods, jostled by Chan Yeol who adds weights to the saddle. He looks around some more, then back to Minseok, still clearly looking for help.

“You’ll be back,” Minseok repeats.

Jongdae inhales deeply. “I have never known anything but this,” he whispers.

“I know.” Minseok sighs. “I guess it’s partly my fault, so please, even though you won’t accept them, hear my apologies.”

“How is this only ‘partly’ your fault?” Chan Yeol grunts, jumping onto his stallion, behind Jongdae. Loey whinnies and nods his head.

Minseok lifts the reins of his gelding. “I’ll tell you when we’re not risking to be found here. We are literally the most undesired combination of people the wisemen would like to see. I’m supposed to be in prison, Jongdae is supposed to murder me, and you’re not even supposed to know about Jongdae’s existence,” he says impatiently. “Dae, how far are they?”

“One day of walk.”

“It’s not much of an advantage, especially if they will see our tracks in the snow.”

Jongdae tilts his head, his eyes wet. “It’s going to be dark soon. And it will snow. It will snow a lot.”

Chan Yeol surrounds him with his arms to take the reins, after securing Jongdae’s legs to the saddle with the stirrups. “Are you sure, Chennie?”

The horses start, one next to the other, trotting to warm up, tossing their heads. 

Jongdae looks behind himself when they’re about to leave the clearing. “I’m leaving my home, my only home. It will snow a lot.”

-

It does snow a lot indeed.

Jongdae must be thoroughly distressed, though he doesn’t show it. Looking at his face, if Minseok didn’t know his situation, he’d say he’s just deep in thought, maybe a little worried about something.

It’s true that they’re not immersed in a winter storm; the worsening of the weather conditions is clear only in the intensity and the dimension of the snowflakes that they have to shrug off their coats every now and then. It means that Jongdae is keeping a cool head, despite everything.

But he’s disoriented. He looks so tiny and lost as he looks around. Minseok has to sit on his hands to prevent himself from smothering him in a hug when they camp for the night and he sees Jongdae wrap himself in one of his blankets, clinging to the familiarity of the fabric as if it’s the only thing he has left in the world. It’s a discomfiting sight, especially because Jongdae has never needed defences against the cold.

Minseok hates that this is what they’ve come to. He’s appalled. Uprooting Jongdae from his only certainty in life was not something he had intended to do, ever. Even when his imagination ran unhinged, when they were still in love and happy running in the meadow and Minseok dared to imagine a future with him free from the claws of the wisemen, he never envisioned that future in other places than the clearing. Because it was the only thing Jongdae had had, and ripping him away from his place in the world would have been cruel.

They travel in silence, Chan Yeol in the front leading the way, following the prints he had left just hours before, and when those disappear he keeps riding without hesitation, knowing the way. Minseok follows. They proceed relatively quickly, thanks to the fact that they’re descending the Mountain rather than climbing it. 

Jongdae is the one to suggest that they stop.

“Are they far?” Chan Yeol asks.

Jongdae winces. “They are pretty lost right now. They’re looking in the wrong place. We can rest.”

“What do they want from you?”

Rubbing his eyes, Jongdae hides his tiredness with a huff. “I can hear their steps, Yeol, not their voices and thoughts. I don’t know what they want from me. Minseok could probably deduce it.”

Minseok immediately raises his hands. “I have no idea.”

They set up a little fire and eat from the things they took from Jongdae’s pantry. 

“How long before we reach your country?” Minseok asks, swallowing a mouthful.

Chan Yeol laughs. “You’re already in it. Welcome, both of you, for the first time.”

“You’ve never been so low on this side before?” Minseok asks Jongdae.

Jongdae is tight lipped for a second, probably considering whether Minseok deserves a direct answer. What they told each other on the clearing doesn’t count. 

Chan Yeol ends up answering in his stead. “No, he hasn’t. As you probably know there are no borders, the Mountain is border enough between our countries. He’s been living in no man’s land, but he always refused to follow us on the descent. I don’t think he has ever stepped over the mountain pass... always so respectful of our old weather’s master, and then too fearful he would do something wrong,” he speaks with affection.

“And look at me now,” Jongdae seethes, staring into the fire.

“Yes, look at you now. Of course I’d prefer you visit us under happier circumstances than the current ones, but I’m still happy you’re in  _ my  _ home for a change, Jongdae.”

Jongdae looks at him with surprise, hearing the name, but lets it go.

The man from the Sea looks at Minseok. “To answer what you probably meant to ask, we will arrive in Hang Gu tomorrow evening.”

“So soon?”

“As you noticed, the Mountain is very steep on this side. I remember you said it took you weeks to get to Jongdae from the other side?”

Minseok lowers his gaze. “On foot, yes. With a horse it only took me about eight days. They would have been five if I hadn’t been slowed down by the snow.” He hesitates. “They will be there?”

Jongdae’s gaze is heavy on him, but Minseok only looks at Chan Yeol, who nods. “Yes. According to what Jun Myeon said in his letter, they will be there.”

Minseok shudders. He doesn’t even dare to imagine them. “Did he say whether... whether they are fine?”

“They are.”

Jongdae licks his lips. “I don’t know whether Jun Myeon mentioned, but how do you know for sure that it’s them?”

Chan Yeol rummages in one of the inner pockets of his coat. He reads the letter quickly, mentioning some passages out loud for their benefits. “Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, five and four years old... couldn’t stop screaming when we mentioned ‘Uncle Min’... actually couldn’t stop screaming in general... Jong In asked them to draw a rainbow, and the little one drew one identical to the one Minseok showed us in the hut…” he stops and laughs to himself. “Jong In is so clever for this one. Then Jun Myeon also said... both very scared but all in one piece... delightful little kids, the older one almost ripped my hair out, very vocal... sound familiar?”

Minseok doesn’t find his voice. He just nods, overwhelmed.

He would jump on his horse and race to this “Hang Gu” right that instant, impatient to hear them yell in his hears their usual “Uncle Min”.

He sniffles, trying to pull himself together. “Chan Yeol, I don’t have money to repay you.”

Chan Yeol waves a hand. “I already told you once, we didn’t do it for you. We did it for them. We would have done it for any other kid. We will probably do it again, now that Jong In has this open channel with the pirates.” He sighs. “We didn’t do it for you. You’re very high on our enemy list right now, Minseok. Expect the others to be much louder and make a stand. We’ve come to know what you’ve done to Jongdae and you’re not exactly the ideal parental figure we have in mind.”

Minseok clenches his fists under his cloak, unseen. “They’re my sister’s kids.”

“Yes, but—”

“Yeol,” Jongdae interrupts. “We don’t have the right to syndicate over his family. His sister entrusted him with her sons, who are we to judge? We can’t say we actually know Minseok, but if you look at me, at the lengths he’s gone to just to grant them a future, you’ll see he’s obviously the best option for them. He doesn’t stop at anything, for them. They’ll be perfectly fine with him.”

Ignoring the way he has just stabbed Minseok in the chest about ten times in the span of a single utterance, Jongdae burrows in his blanket and lays down, getting ready to sleep. 

Even Chan Yeol seems a little taken aback by his words. “All right. Valid point.”

No one speaks after that.

Minseok cannot sleep. 

-

Minseok hears their voices at dawn.

“I need to walk, Yeol.”

“What if you get lost?”

“I’ll listen to your breathing in the breeze and find you again. I need to think.”

“Well, put your damn boots on at least. My own toes are about to fall off just looking at yours.”

Minseok obviously doesn’t hear the steps of Jongdae as he walks away, and pretends he hasn’t heard anything until there’s rustling and Chan Yeol gets up. “Jongdae?”

Alarmed by his tone of voice, Minseok sits up and scans his surroundings. Jongdae is standing, not far from them, staring at the snow in front of his feet. “They found it.”

Chan Yeol curses, or at least Minseok assumes he does so since he doesn’t recognise the words. They sound pretty much like foul language.

A single tear rolls down Jongdae’s face at the same time a snowflake melts against Minseok’s cheek. “We should keep going.”

When the sun is high in the sky, Chan Yeol asks whether they are following them. Jongdae shakes his head. 

In the afternoon, the snow on the ground gives way to brittle, brown grass that turns to green in the evening. They take off their heavy clothes. The air changes; Minseok keeps wrinkling his nose, unable to tell whether he likes the scent of the Sea or not. The vegetation is so different from what he’s used to see, but in the darkness it’s hard to pinpoint where those differences lie. 

Hang Gu is the capital, and before they trot into it Chan Yeol makes sure they’re both wearing long sleeves and that they hide their dark hair with hoods. “Travellers are always welcome in our land, it wouldn’t be strange to see two men from abroad, but we don’t want anyone to notice you now.”

It takes them hours to cross the bustling city. It seems like at the Sea, the people never go to sleep. From what Minseok can see in the light of the many torches lit up at every corner of the labyrinthine streets, every house is painted a different colour and every door leads someplace with music and merrymaking. A blonde ocean of small crowds are gathered under the colorful drapes hanging from each roof, obstructing the sight of the vault of the sky.

Chan Yeol leads the way, one hand firmly closed around Loey’s bridles and the other around Jongdae’s wrist. Minseok walks right behind them, leading Hilro along after having casually draped a mantle over his back and his hind legs in order not to attract the attention of any equine experts. 

He never loses sight of Jongdae, not because he’s afraid he’d get lost but because he can’t ignore the way the weather’s master’s breathing is heavy. His eyes are wide as he takes in his surroundings.

Minseok himself can’t help but think of the Plains as dull, ordinary and sober in comparison. Only during the most important festivities he had seen so many people in the streets at night, and definitely not after the beginning of the drought.

So he can only imagine how Jongdae must be terrified. The most numerous group that had surrounded him in years had been of five people. And while his friends were definitely loud and rowdy when they let the enthusiasm take over, that was nothing compared to this cacophony.

Yet the sky is clear; this is not Jongdae’s domain. So truly, for the first time, Minseok can only imagine how the weather’s master feels.

When they arrive at the outskirts and Chan Yeol announces they have reached the shore, Minseok stares dumbly at the black water for a long time. In the dim light that comes from the seafront, it looks like the lake near the stables, when the lake was not dry. But it’s all black. The moon is waning, a small curved blade in the sky, and she doesn’t help him see clearly what exactly he’s facing. Even the moon is different here, she’s so small. 

The smell is more pungent than ever. “Briny scent,” Chan Yeol calls it, offended by the nauseated tone of Minseok. 

And the noise; the murmuring of the waves. Not being able to see what produces it makes Minseok wary, and the idea of movement behind it makes him feel like the Sea is going to ambush him.

The poorly lit scape of their destination suggests a construction yard. Chan Yeol ties their horses outside of a shabby wooden structure, abandoned and empty at first glance, and gestures them to follow him. 

He knocks twice on a door, waits, then knocks twice again and whistles. 

Steps from the inside, then the door opens and Jun Myeon’s face appears, lit by the candle he’s holding. “Yeol? How are you back so soon? Have you—oh.”

Jongdae takes off the scarf he had put around his head. “Jun Myeon.”

Jun Myeon almost drops the candle. “Oh?” he reiterates. “And— _ oh, _ ” he gasps when Minseok does the same. “Come in, all of you.”

Jongdae steps in with confidence, and just as he had fallen into Chan Yeol’s embrace, he all but stumbles against Jun Myeon’s chest. Minseok does his best to be invisible, but soon Jun Myeon’s glare burns him. “Mind to explain?”

Chan Yeol closes the door behind all of them. “Later. Are the kids here?”

Jun Myeon does not hesitate. “Follow me.”

They walk from a large room, a storage, into the next one, and then into a third one. Everything smells heavily of sawdust, resin and tar. For a second Minseok is grateful that his nose is distracted from the salt. 

Then Jun Myeon opens a fourth door in a much smaller room, and its occupants all but tackle Chan Yeol when they see him. “Why are you back so soon?” Jong In screams, but by the way he’s hugging him Minseok can tell that he doesn’t mind at all.

Se Hun is much more concerned by Jongdae’s presence. “Chennie!” he gasps. “He brought back Chennie!”

Minseok has never felt jealous witnessing the amount of affection the Sea people had for Jongdae. He could see how much he needed it, craved it sometimes, as a relief to his solitude. Now more than ever, after suffering alone in his ice blanket by the hand of someone he had thought loved him the most, the warmth and familiarity of his friends could offer him a solace Minseok can only wish he could give him.

Hoping to remain undetected was utopic, but Minseok still flinches when Se Hun and Jong In finally realise there’s a third newcomer. 

“You!” Se Hun seethes, shoving Chan Yeol out of the way.

Jong In is faster. 

Minseok thinks that after all, it was due a long time ago.

He bends his knees a little and closes his eyes, but does nothing to avoid the punch. He’s only a little sad that Baekhyun and Kyungsoo will see him for the first time in months with blood coming out of his nose.

But Jong In doesn’t hit him. Minseok spies with one eye only, and sees the fist suspended over his face, the muscles of Jong In’s arm flexed and ready, his scowl feral. “It’s pointless if you don’t react.”

Se Hun grabs Jong In by the shirt and moves him to the side, pushing Minseok instead. Minseok hits the wall with his back, but still doesn’t resist. “I knew I was right about you,” Se Hun accuses. “I should have trusted my guts more. You were just as horrible as I thought.” He turns to Chan Yeol. “May I know why you haven’t beaten him to a pulp yet?”

Chan Yeol shrugs. “I didn’t want to upset Jongdae.”

Jongdae is not even looking at them.

Jong In appears again. “Then maybe I can wait until Chen is not looking, you absolute piece of—”

“Jong In,” Jongdae calls.

“What? I was getting to the important part.”

When Jongdae doesn’t answer, Jong In and Se Hun move their glare away from Minseok to follow Jongdae’s line of sight. Altogether, they let him go and step aside.

“Uncle Min?”

Minseok could literally start  _ floating. _

Kyungsoo’s wide eyes are impossibly huge and sparkly. 

Minseok falls to his knees. Baekhyun appears literally out of nowhere and throws himself at him, soon followed by Kyungsoo.

It’s like all the months spent apart from them never even existed. It’s all so familiar.

They are all right. Too many things all at the same time occupy Minseok’s mind: they are tucked in his arms, they are not injured, they remember him, they’re not too thin, they smell clean, they are fine. Well, Baekhyun is sobbing and Kyungsoo doesn’t look entirely convinced that Minseok is actually there, but they’re in his arms. Minseok holds onto them with desperation, hides his tears in their hair, kissing their heads in turn, unable to believe they’re there.

He hears muffled voices in the background, shuffling of feet, but he doesn’t care. 

“I’m here, I’m here, Uncle Min is here,” he breathes out, finally untangling from their little arms and smiling at them. 

Baekhyun pats his cheek when he sees the tears, scared. He does the same for the kid. “It’s all right, Baek, it’s all right. I’m happy to see you. How are you? Are you alright? Yes?”

Baekhyun is frowning. He nods, then he shakes his head, then nods again, clutching Minseok’s shirt and crying.

Kyungsoo keeps staring intently, focused.

Baekhyun is, as Minseok had forecasted, very offended that Minseok had left them alone for so long. “Where were you?” he rumbles, hitting his arm with one little fist. He tries very hard to sound angry, but he’s also weeping at the same time.

Minseok takes a good look at them both. They’ve been far away from each other for months, but something has changed and Minseok feels like the gap has been longer than a year. They don’t look like themselves anymore. They’ve seen a lot, they’ve lived a lot. 

And Kyungsoo is definitely a few centimeters taller.

Minseok swallows. “I had something very important to do, Baek, but it’s over now and I’m back.”

“Don’t leave again!” Baekhyun yells. “Don’t leave again!”

Kyungsoo emphatically shakes his head. “No leave.”

“No leave,” Minseok confirms. “Never again.”

-

His nephews barely gave Minseok the time to remove his backpack before they dragged him to where they'd apparently been sleeping for the past two nights, a soft, warm bedding of straw covered with layers of soft fabric and pillows. Baekhyun wouldn’t accept anything that didn’t include one of Minseok’s arms around his own shoulders as he rambled of seagulls and seashells, while Kyungsoo had demandingly decided he would sit on one of his legs and force him to look at all his doodles. 

“When did you make these?” Minseok asks, not having a free hand to hold any more papers but trying to take a better look anyway. “These look great, Soo.”

Kyungsoo nods to himself. He’s serious. He’s so serious. “I made them on today.”

Minseok notices how Baekhyun is dozing off on his shoulder and lowers his voice. “Who gave you the paper?”

“You friends give me the paper,” Kyungsoo says, pouting a little and moving his drawings around, then grabbing his own ankles and rocking a little.

“Which friend?”

_ Do I even have friends? _

“Jonging friend.”

_ Of course it was Jong In. _

Minseok glances up. On the other side of the room there is a table, where Chan Yeol had sagged a while ago, rolling his shoulders and massaging his legs after days of riding. Jun Myeon is putting together something to eat for his friend, opening cabinets. 

The two lanterns hanging from the ceiling do an excellent job at lighting up the room, but still Minseok doesn’t know what kind of place this could be. It looks like some kind of hideout, placed inside a dry dock.

Chan Yeol scarfs down his food as if he hadn't seen anything edible in months. Jun Myeon had wisely suggested the other two to take Jongdae to eat somewhere else, to avoid tension. Se Hun had briefly deposited Minseok’s saddlebags inside after hiding his horse, glaring before he went away.

Minseok looks down at the kids again. For being totally unprepared to take on the responsibility of two children, he must say Jongdae’s friends did a good job. Baekhyun and Kyungsoo seem serene in their presence, as if they had known them for years. He doesn’t know how they had been entertained or ingratiated by the Sea people, but it worked. They are clean and the hideout seems adequately equipped for them, though of course far from the simple luxuries of a house. 

He wonders whose clothes they are wearing, since they are clearly not wearing something they brought from the Plains. The blue shirts they are wearing are too big, and have been cuffed several times on the sleeves and cut around their waist, while the grey pants probably belonged to Jong In’s nephew. 

Kyungsoo makes grabby hands to a wooden box laying on the covers, and Minseok tries to reach for it without jostling Baekhyun too much. He whines in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up. Occasionally he sniffles. 

Silently, Kyungsoo takes one of the pencils from the box after sliding the lid open with experienced little fingers, and draws. Minseok ruffles his hair and watches over, wondering what they have seen, heard, experienced, since he left. Wondering when they became so serious and when they learned to keep their eyes always so peeled open, careful not to miss a thing though not in the way of a kid who’s learning to know the world, but in the way of an animal being hunted. 

When they’re awake, that is. Baekhyun has started drooling against his shirt by now, and it makes Minseok feel very at home.

“They are adorable,” Chanyeol says in between mouthfuls. 

Minseok blinks, unsure. He nods. “I will introduce you properly when this one is awake,” he proposes, nudging Baekhyun a little. Baekhyun’s sleep is undisturbed.

Chan Yeol seems delighted. A weird facial expression on someone who had declared he wanted to drown their uncle in the bay just two days before.

Jun Myeon studies them from where he’s folding a tablecloth.

Minseok clears his throat. “Soo, do you want to meet another of my friends?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t lift his eyes from the paper in his lap. “Xing?”

With a pang in his heart, Minseok wonders what Yixing is up to. “No, not Yixing. But I saw him recently, he said to give you a lot of hugs and kisses.”

“Hugs and kisses,” Kyungsoo mutters, then looking up at Minseok. “What friend?”

When Minseok beckons him closer, Chan Yeol almost stumbles in his haste to reach them. He kneels on the edge of the bedding. “Hello, I am Chan Yeol. What is your name?”

Kyungsoo seems unable to take in the whole frame of Chan Yeol. He can’t be blamed, the man is huge compared to average-sized humans, let alone kids. “Soo.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Soo.” Chan Yeol coos. “You draw really well.”

The kid nods to himself, pensive. Then he grabs one of the papers and he slaps it on Chan Yeol’s face. Next arrives a pencil. 

“It means you’re friends now,” Minseok explains when Chan Yeol recovers from the attempted murder via a pencil stabbing his eye.

Kyungsoo climbs out of Minseok’s hold to crouch next to Chan Yeol, humming softly. He puts Chan Yeol’s hand over the back of his sheet and proceeds to trace the margins, humming. Minseok comes to discover that Chan Yeol, despite his height, looks about Kyungsoo’s age when he’s fascinated by something. 

Using this chance to put Baekhyun to bed properly, Minseok lays the older kid down, swathing him in a blanket.

“Minseok, do you want to eat something?” Jun Myeon calls, careful not to raise his voice.

Minseok is starving, but he reasons that there’s some food in his saddlebags. Food that he can eat alone, without the other staring at him like a hawk, judging him for abusing their generosity and hospitality. “I’m fine.”

Jun Myeon purses his lips and proceeds to fill a bowl of porridge anyway. He places it on the table, then stares some more with his arms crossed. 

Minseok supposes he has to eat. At least it’s not fish.

Kyungsoo has drawn about twenty copies of Chan Yeol’s hands when Minseok puts down his spoon after completing his meal and the door opens. 

“Have you eaten?” Jun Myeon immediately asks Jongdae.

“I feel like puking, I don’t want to eat.”

“Oh, Chennie…”

Jongdae ignores Jong In and stands where he is, awkwardly, next to the door. He’s looking at Kyungsoo, who’s using a bunch of crumpled up papers as a shield after seeing yet another stranger.

Se Hun scoffs. “I can’t blame you, I feel like puking too when I look at his face,” he shrugs, nodding at Minseok without even dignifying him with a look. At least he cares about not saying it loud enough to be heard by Kyungsoo. “You don’t have to be here, Chen, let’s go.”

“We should start thinking about where you two will sleep,” Jong In starts, “Chen, I would gladly offer some space in my home—”

“No.” Chan Yeol shakes his head and makes Kyungsoo flinch. “No one must know that they’re here. They’re both wanted by their Council. That is why I brought them here.”

For a minute, the room is full of wide eyes and astounded gazes. 

Minseok prepares for what will follow. That they have to leave immediately, that they won’t risk them to be found in their country, that it was a stupid move.

Instead, Jong In puts his hands on his hips, hissing at Minseok. “What else did you do?”

“I will tell you everything,” Minseok swallows thickly. He lowers his voice. “But please, not in front of the kids.”

“Fair enough,” Jun Myeon agrees, gesturing to the door. “We can speak outside. Yeol, you got this?”

Chan Yeol is elated at the perspective of staying with the kids some more. “Yes.”

Minseok stands, but freezes when there’s a thud and a small gasp. Kyungsoo is pattering in his direction and latching onto his leg in record time. “No leave! You said no leave, Uncle Min!”

“Sshh, that’s right, Soo. I promised, right? I’m not leaving.” He scoops him in his arms and lifts him. “I’m not going anywhere. I just need to help my friends do some things, I’ll be in the other room.”

He ignores how Se Hun scoffs and grumbles something along the lines of “friends is a bit of a stretch” and focuses on the child’s wide eyes. 

He doesn’t like all the fear that he sees, but he understands it. He knows that if he had a mirror within easy reach while looking at his sister’s sons, he’d have more or less the same round eyes filled with the same crippling doubt.

“Maybe we can wait a bit?” he proposes, meaning to wait until Kyungsoo would fall asleep too.

“I think it’s an urgent matter, Minseok,” Jun Myeon shakes his head. “Chan Yeol can manage with him. He has plenty of experience with Jong In’s nephew and niece. Plus, he needs all the practice he can get, his sister is expecting.”

Suffocating a protest because  _ these are my sister’s kids, they are not something you can  _ practice  _ on _ , Minseok instead nods. “Congratulations to your sister,” he says lowly, a little choked because he remembers the joy he had felt the day his sister told him she was pregnant with Baekhyun. 

Chen Yeol is beaming. Totally understandable.

“Soo,” Minseok whispers, sitting Kyungsoo at the table on the highest of the odd chairs. “Will you show Chan Yeol how good you are at drawing our silver horses? You remember them, right?”

Kyungsoo still clutches at his sleeve, but soon Chan Yeol is back with the papers and the pencils that he spreads on the table. “I have never seen one of your silver horses, Kyungsoo,” Chan Yeol smiles around the small white lie. “Can you show me?”

A lot of blinking, a lot of hesitation, then Kyungsoo does a little distressed motion rubbing his head with his hands. His black hair sticks up everywhere, and he wheezes a little. 

It’s so wrong to see on a child.

“I promise your Uncle Min will be back soon.”

Eventually, Kyungsoo picks up a pencil. “Silver horses very fast,” he begins, and he draws lines on the paper, making swishing noises.

The adults in the room file out one after the other, silently, as Kyungsoo continues his onomatopoeic narration. Minseok follows them begrudgingly, and stares until Jun Myeon closes the door. 

“He draws a lot,” Jun Myeon comments, walking around the room to light up the candles on the shelves. It seems like a sort of office. “Jong In brought him the sheets of paper because we thought we might need them to identify them, but he hasn’t stopped drawing since.”

Minseok offers a smile, though he’s pretty sure it comes out as a grimace. “After my sister died, I figured out quickly that giving him something to do was the most effective way to calm him down. When I ran out of paper, I gave him my books. I ran out of those too, so he drew on the walls, and then on the curtains. It’s his thing.”

Jongdae looks nauseous.

Chan Yeol’s boisterous laughter can be heard through the door.

Minseok wonders when the kids will be able to laugh loud enough to be heard through closed doors again.

“What about Baekhyun? How do you calm him down?” Se Hun asks, brittle.

Jong In nudges him. “Se Hun’s just pissed because Baekhyun bit him, today.”

“Maybe biting is his thing,” Jun Myeon chuckles. Se Hun groans.

“He has always done that a lot. Unfortunately I still do not know how to calm him down,” Minseok bites his lips. “He’s always been difficult—Jongdae, are you alright?”

Jongdae has dark shadows under his eyes and seems to be as stable and strong as the flickering flames of the candles. “No. I can’t feel Mother here, I just feel her suffering through them. I’m very tired,” he explains with a shaky voice.

“Should we get going? We can find a place for you, and—”

“There is no place for me, Jong In” Jongdae rubs his temples. “I’m too far. I can’t hear anything.”

It’s true that he looks miserable, but the worst part is how he looks... displaced. He sits on a bench near the wall, on the opposite side of the room compared to Minseok. “Minseok, please, I need you to tell me the truth. All of the truth. Nothing but the truth,” he states calmly, but firmly. “And I think the others have the right to listen after they bent over backwards for your nephews. And since they are literally offering you political asylum right now.”

“We haven’t ‘offered’ anything, really, but we are not going to report him,” Jun Myeon sighs, “Especially because we would have a lot of explaining to do about our recent relations with the slavers. If Minseok tells us the truth, no one will get hurt.”

Jongdae nods. “When you stopped visiting and writing me letters after your weather’s mistress was born, I told you I never doubted your friendship, though I admitted the thought of you using me crossed my mind. Yet I let you explain yourselves. I thought it over, and I think he deserves the same right.”

“How can we prove that he tells us the truth?” Se Hun is skeptical.

“You can’t,” Minseok intervenes. “But it’s game over for me. I am homeless, countryless, I am being hunted down, and you have Baekhyun and Kyungsoo. You have my freedom  _ and  _ theirs in your hands. Why would I lie to you, with the risk of you finding out and turning me over to your authorities to avoid political incidents between our countries? I am literally at your mercy.”

No one has anything to respond to that.

“Start from the beginning, Minseok.”

Minseok crosses Jongdae’s gaze, then he closes his eyes and he inhales. 

“My sister died one year and a half ago. After she was gone, I was the only family Baekhyun and Kyungsoo had. Their father ran away before Kyungsoo was even born. I swore to her on her deathbed that I would take care of them as if they were my own.” He opens his eyes when he hears the door creaking.

“He fell asleep with his pencil in his little fist. He’s so cute,” Chan Yeol reports chuckling. He goes serious immediately when he notices the somber atmosphere.

Minseok swallows. “The kids have never known our land without the drought. They were born when it was already difficult to grow anything in the fields, and the water was rationed. The last two years have been especially bad; I had to sell anything I owned that had a minimum economic value to find food for them. My friend Yixing was wealthy and helped me as much as he could, but in the end it was just too much. When the Council approached me, I agreed to listen to their proposal.”

Jongdae moves on the bench folding his hands in his lap. 

“The wisemen, unbeknownst to the rest of the Council and the population, decided to act at the root of the problem—they decided to try to tie Jongdae to our land again. They asked each mayor to give them the names of young men and women without family ties or jobs indispensable to the community, people not particularly... religious,” he says carefully. “I fit the requirements. Legally I don’t have custody over Baek and Soo, my family’s stables had been closed for a while, and I had long lost faith in anything. My name ended up in the bowl. They drew it.”

He stares at Jongdae’s hands as he talks, monitoring the way he twists them tight together. The room is silent, but it’s not the silence Minseok is used to. There’s the constant slosh of the Sea.

“The moment they sent an emissary in the middle of the night, I knew they were up to something sketchy. I could have refused to listen, and moved on with my life. But the emissary offered me the solution to my family’s starvation, so I listened. And after he talked I knew their secret, so it was too late to back out. I tried to tell them I would rather not go, but they had done their research and found out about the kids. Using them as leverage, they forced me to go. When the wisemen are upset, people disappear.”

“But the kids disappeared anyway, didn’t they?” Jong In objects.

“That happened later. But yes.”

“They blackmailed you? And those are the people you call your  _ leaders?! _ ”

“Let him speak,” Se Hun grumbles. He seems very invested in his narration.

“I followed the emissary to Su Do, where the wisemen tried to fill my head with stories... I supposed they tried to make me hate you, Jongdae. Half of our people kept venerating Mother, the other half thought She was a pitiless deity that left us to die. Consequently, the weather’s master in their mind was just a spiteful, cruel being that toyed with us for his own enjoyment. I have to be completely honest, Jongdae. I never believed a weather’s master would just look upon the landscape, at the dried land unfolding, and be happy about all that death. It didn’t make sense. But after I lost my family and my friends to that death, I couldn’t blame the wisemen for nurturing such feelings towards you. They watched their people die for a decade, without having the power to stop it. They tried to make me become hateful too, but that is not who I am. You know this.”

He briefly lifts his gaze. Jongdae is imperturbable. His eyes are deep and unblinking.

“But they could have stopped it.” Jun Myeon frowns. “They could have asked Jongdae to come back. They could have welcomed him again.”

“They believe he’s dangerous. I was young when he was exiled, but I remember the day he left. Everyone was... celebrating. They believe he’s the most powerful master that has ever walked as a human. They say that when he was a child, he nearly destroyed everything in his proximity because of the lack of control he had over his powers. They say he nearly killed people.”

They all look at Jongdae, who barely moves. He doesn’t comment and he doesn’t deny.

Chan Yeol scoffs and opens his arms, gesturing around. “I have never seen him destroy anything. Apart from the occasional lightning-stricken tree.”

“I have,” Minseok whispers.

Jongdae’s gaze only intensifies.

“But... aren’t all masters supposed to be a little…” Jong In waves his hands. “Intense?”

No one answers.

“When I left for the Mountain, I did it only because I was scared they would take their wrath out on the kids if I disobeyed. And, well, because they had offered me the only way out of a drought that would otherwise kill them. I was desperate, and I just wanted to get it done soon to go back and take care of the kids. So I found you.”

Minseok swallows. His throat is dry. “My orders were to bond with you. Become friends with you, make you fall in love if possible. The stronger our affection, the bigger the heartbreak. The bigger the heartbreak, the bigger the rain.” He inhales shakily. “I was just looking for the rain.”

Jongdae nods slowly. “That’s what you told me. You said you were looking for the rain.”

“I don’t know why they thought I would be good at deception. They didn’t really know much about me, except that I was desperate and that I could put that deception to good use. But believe me, Jongdae, I have never liked—no, liked is too much. I have never even  _ approved  _ of my mission. It was my duty, but I hated it. Especially after I met you,” he sniffles. “You were so kind, so not like anything they had told me about you. When I saw you the first time after I woke up, I thought I was dreaming, because you were so beautiful,” he chuckles, embarrassed, and he rubs the back of his head where he had hit it, that first day.

“Oh, please spare us this act,” Se Hun starts, but Chan Yeol stomps on his foot.

“I hated my mission even more when I got to know you, because I started getting attached to you. I felt sincere admiration for you, and affection, and the desire to protect you, and knowing I was supposed to hurt you kept me awake at night. Knowing I was lying to you every day... sometimes it was difficult for me to look at you because I was sure you could read right through me. And you did, a lot. So many times you said things... you got so close to the truth! So close that I thought you knew, and you were deceiving me, too! And I kept dropping hints, and saying the wrong things, and acting like a fool, but you never understood that I was an impostor. You kept getting close to me, too, and you gifted me with parts of you, your thoughts and feelings, that I treasured more than anything in the world. Dae, I fell for you.”

Jongdae turns his head to the side, as if burned. 

“When I realised I was doomed like that, I swore to myself that I would have rather kept my feelings for myself rather than be deceptive, because you never deserved any of this.” He points at himself and at their surroundings. “I thought I would find a way to keep you at arm’s length, waiting for the right moment to come out clean and tell you the truth. Ask you for help, ask you for the rain. And then leave.”

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“Because it was already too late. I was not sure about your feelings for me until I received that pigeon, remember?”

“From your friend Yixing.”

“It was not Yixing. I lied to you, it was the Council. The wisemen told me that it started raining on the Plains.” He lowers his gaze. “That’s when I knew you loved me, too.”

Someone sighs. Minseok doesn’t check who it is, because he’s staring at the wetness clinging to Jongdae’s lashes, threatening to spill.

It’s weird to be witnessing Jongdae’s pain without the sound of thunder, or the coldness of rain.

“Something that I hadn’t predicted had happened; breaking your heart was not necessary anymore. You loving me had already bonded you to the Plains again. You were our weather’s master again. I didn’t need to break your heart anymore! I had already succeeded, I made it rain!”

“But?”

“But that meant I was exiled from my country as well. I should stay with you and keep you bonded to me as long as possible.”

“Keep me alive in an illusion. Deceive me forever, to be my master.”

“Yes, that is what the Council wanted from me. They knew before I even left. That was the first time they deceived me, too. But at the moment I was blinded by happiness, because I thought that I would never need to hurt you! Telling you the truth would be worse. The truth would be your heartbreak. And I couldn’t do that to you, for multiple reasons. Because I couldn’t lose you now that I could have you, because I still thought I had control over the situation, and because they ordered me not to. Or else the kids—”

“Would disappear,” Jongdae completes. “No wonder you were hysterical that day.”

“I had just received what for me meant permission to love you,” Minseok feels strangled. “But I had been deceived and exiled. I thought I would never see Baekhyun and Kyungsoo again.”

There’s a long pause.

Jun Myeon rubs his face with his hands, looking a little shocked. Se Hun mutters a very long string of Sea curses under his breath, still looking stern. Jong In and Chan Yeol, in unison, turn to look at the door behind which the kids are sleeping.

“It’s how it’s always been, isn’t it?” Jongdae asks, still looking away. “You suspended between me and the kids.”

“And I knew one day the Council would force me to choose. Or rather, they would choose for me. Maybe they would never call me back from the Mountain, or they would force me to leave you because they would decide one day that the time to break you had come. Or maybe another master would be born. And I was scared.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then, Minseok?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Do you think I wouldn’t have understood?”

Minseok shrugs. “You know you wouldn’t have. Not after everything our wisemen have done to you ever since the moment you were born. You never forgave them, and you never will. I lied to you; I obeyed the wisemen, even though my reasons to be with you were very different from theirs. But you know you wouldn’t have forgiven me.”

_ And you never will. _

He stops himself before he can say it out loud. He’s pathetic, but he doesn’t want to hear the confirmation of it. Not yet.

Jongdae dries his eyes with a jerky, riled movement. “You’re right.” He inhales deeply. “I wouldn’t have understood. Though waiting for as long as you waited made it even worse. That’s what you meant when you said you never felt allowed to be with me. And when you said I was letting you hurt me.”

“Yes. I knew everything had an expiry date. As long as I ignored it, I could keep the illusion that I could have both you and my life on the Plains. It was painful, to lie to myself and to you all the time, but I couldn’t stay away from you. I couldn’t stop loving you, even though each day that went by your pain would increase. Yes, I was selfish. I could not possibly lose you.”

Jongdae laughs dryly, making the others flinch in their corners. “You know what’s the worst part? That I could see you struggling. All the time. I could hear the strain in your steps, I could hear Mother whispering to me. I knew you loved me for real, but I could feel you fighting it. Fighting me, fighting yourself. I thought you were just not good at managing your emotions. I never second guessed, I thought it was valid, because look at me!” He finally looks at Minseok again. “Look at me! Am I not like that, too?”

Minseok doesn’t answer, and Jongdae wipes away his tears again. “You gave yourself to me, Minseok. You gave me everything, I couldn’t have possibly doubted you even though you kept throwing the truth at me! I see it now! I see it all backwards. You’ve tried to warn me, multiple times. You’ve been quite explicit about it. You couldn’t have been more explicit. I was just unable to see because not seeing was convenient. You were not the only one who kept the illusion alive, Minseok. And it’s wrong of me to blame you without recognising my part of the fault. I have been a fool, and this is a lesson I needed to learn.”

Minseok doesn’t care that there’s other people in the room. He walks up to Jongdae. “I loved you for real, Jongdae. I never faked my feelings for you, I—”

“Don’t. Touch me.”

Minseok stops, his outstretched hand aloof. 

“Don’t. This is not about love, it’s about trust. You might have loved me but you lied to me, you hid things from me, and you used me. You used me, Minseok.” He’s austere in the way he says it. He stands up slowly, fiercely. “And if what you’re telling me is true, your reasons might even have been good. You might have been forced to act the way you did. And I would excuse you for it, but no, I don’t want to. I am going to be the selfish one this time, because you used me, and you hurt me where it hurt the most, and you knew what you were doing,” he seethes.

Minseok wishes for the ocean to rise up and swallow him whole. “I didn’t have a choice,” he manages to utter, a tear escaping his eye.

“You heard him, stay away from him.”

Minseok steps back, trying to breathe. 

“Tell me about the second letter,” Jongdae orders, fiercely, not looking any less powerful without Mother aiding him.

“It was for you,” Minseok finds the strength to continue. “The wisemen worded it as if it was for me, but the way they wrote it didn’t make sense. They sent the pigeon to you. Didn’t they? The carrier pigeon sought you.”

Jongdae purses his lips. “Yes.”

“What they wrote in the message was designed to make sure you would understand that I had deceived you. It made no sense for them to write those things to me. I found out then that they had never planned  _ not  _ to break your heart. They just wanted to be the ones doing it, instead of me.”

Se Hun slams his fist on the table at his left. “What a depraved bunch of frustrated, vengeful old assholes!”

Minseok couldn’t agree more.

“So then Jongdae kicked you out, and you went back to the Plains…” Jun Myeon continues. “What happened then?”

“I was convinced that Jongdae had opened a letter that was actually for me. It didn’t dawn on me that they had bypassed me again until I was in front of them to report that I couldn’t continue to live on the Mountain and that Jongdae’s heart had been definitely broken. I knew I had lost Jongdae, and I thought it was entirely my fault, but I was hoping that I could at least see the kids again. That’s when they told me they had sold them to a slaver, and that I was going to spend the rest of my life in prison.”

“Excuse me, what?” Se Hun barks.

Minseok looks at the floor. “I thought the whole Council was aware of the plan, but the only people who knew about my mission were the five wisemen and me. Since I couldn’t prove that they were the ones who sent me to the Mountain, and both their letters had returned to their possession, I had nothing against them. They denied entirely their role in the matter. Firstly they admitted wanting to break his heart, then pretended they didn’t know what I was talking about. They accused me of crimes against Mother, and since my actions hurt her Child and caused the winter that was going to ruin the crops, against the People of the Plains. I have a life sentence on my head. They used me and now they want me to keep their secrets in a cell. They framed me.”

Jongdae falls on the bench again. Se Hun paces a little, nostrils flaring, before he has to give up and sit as well. 

Jong In’s mouth doesn’t make him look very handsome when it’s hanging open like that. 

“Right now I wish I didn’t believe you, because this is way more horrible than anything I had imagined,” Jun Myeon rasps out. “But it is also way too horrible not to be true.”

Se Hun lifts his hands, palms up. “But we don’t know, maybe he’s completely insane and delusional.”

“I read that letter. He’s not delusional,” Jongdae grits out.

“How are you not in prison?” Chan Yeol asks.

“They were bringing me to the cells, when I accidentally ran into the dismissed members of the extended Council. I found out that my friend Yixing, who had been the one I entrusted with the kids in my absence, had become a member of the Council. At first I fought him, but he revealed that he had plotted to be introduced into the Palace to be closer to the kids after the wisemen ripped them away from him. He’s the one who helped me escape and told me where the kids had been sold to. The wisemen don’t know that he knows about my mission, they think I hadn’t told him. They don’t know he’s the only person in all the lands that has the power to reveal their wrongdoing and remove them.”

“Do you trust this person?” Jun Myeon asks.

“With my life.”

“What makes you think that he hasn’t let you escape because he wanted to follow you and get to Jongdae? Chan Yeol said that you were being followed and that your people are on the Mountain now.”

“Yixing would never do anything to put me or the kids in danger.”

“Are you sure?”

Minseok smiles sadly. “Yixing had been in love with my sister ever since we were five years old. He had never fallen out of love with her, not even when she got married to another man, not even when she died. He would never allow any of us to get hurt, for her sake.”

More unintelligible cursing from Jong In, this time. 

Jongdae has sagged against the wall behind his back, and he’s staring at the floor. 

“That’s it,” Jun Myeon suddenly straightens up. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m going to the Plains.”

“What?!” Se Hun yells, jumping up.

Jun Myeon ignores him. “Because of the monsoons, my father has cancelled most of his tradings with the Islands and the coasts of the South. He organised caravans directed to the Plains in order not to lose all the merchandise. The Plains might not be back to their former glory, but they are definitely thriving compared to last year when the Sea would have never even considered trading with them. I’ll ask him to join the expedition that leaves tomorrow, it goes to Su Do, your capital. I’ll find Yixing, and we’ll see from there.”

“You’re crazy,” Jong In shakes his head.

“You’re willing to do this just on my word?” Minseok steps in, incredulous. “No, Jun Myeon, don’t do it. It’s risky. Your family knows you were friends with Jongdae, if they talk to the wrong person the wisemen might take you into questioning once you arrive at the Plains. They might think, and they would be right, that Jongdae is here. It would put all of you  _ and  _ Jongdae in danger. I cannot allow that.”

“You just don’t want Jun Myeon to screw up and put you in danger,” Se Hun scoffs.

Minseok squares up in front of him, making him shrink and step back for the second time in their acquaintance. “You have the right to be prejudiced against me, Se Hun, but try not to be blind. I just told Jun Myeon  _ not  _ to go on a mission that could potentially end up overthrowing the government that wants me behind bars—actually, they probably want me  _ dead. _ When will you learn that the only thing that I have  _ never  _ done up until now is prioritise myself, huh?”

He steps back, but doesn’t stop pinning Se Hun with his glare. “The safest thing for everyone would be that you keep Jongdae hidden, and that I run as far as I can and live the rest of my days out of the reach of the wisemen, without my nephews. They should stay here under your protection. Especially because as much as it’s disgusting, Baekhyun and Kyungsoo now legally belong to  _ you. _ You purchased them.”

Jong In sputters. “Of course they don’t, we just freed them!”

“Would you really abandon everything?” Chan Yeol asks, voice shaky.

Minseok opens his mouth to confirm, but Jongdae speaks up. “You can’t, Minseok.” He shakes his head. “You promised them you wouldn’t leave again.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“You never do.” He lifts his chin. “Prove to me that your word is worth something by keeping the one you gave to them.”

“Dae—”

Jongdae shakes his head. “Don’t leave them. Don’t make it so you broke me in vain.”

Minseok is breathing heavily. His head hangs low, he can’t bear all this weight much longer.

“When does the next caravan leave, Jun Myeon?” Jongdae asks, unflappable.

“In three days.”

“We’ll judge whether it’s suitable for you to go. Until then, we need to create a choice where there is none,” he declares. “And I need to sleep. Mother is calling me in my dreams.”

Jun Myeon relents, nodding and squeezing the weather’s master’s shoulder. With the others, he grumbles something about bed arrangements in the shipyards, but Minseok is not listening. He slips away, to go back to the room where Baekhyun and Kyungsoo are sleeping.

He startles when a hand closes around his wrist.

“How is our land now?” Jongdae asks him in a whisper. 

There isn’t really any other way to put it. “Green.”

Jongdae frowns, not upset but concentrated, his gaze unfocused. He tightens his hold on Minseok’s arm, his emotions clearly clashing. He stares at nothing, then he lets him go. “Good.”

-

Minseok wakes up from a vivid dream in which he had been taming a wild horse, a white beauty of rare boldness, under the pouring rain. In the dream, someone was looking at him from the sidelines, but before he could look, his eyes snapped open.

The first thing that he registers is the scent of the Sea. After a while, it’s not that unpleasant. He could get used to it. What is unpleasant is the baggage of realisations it brings.

Minseok closes his eyes again, a futile attempt at escaping his fear and sorrow. 

But something is positive in his situation; when he carefully opens one eye again, it takes him less than a second to locate Kyungsoo’s hair, and weight on his back lets him know that Baekhyun has decided to use him as a mattress. 

_ They’re here. _

“Minseok, your breakfast is ready.”

Jong In is standing near the table, his hands busy with a cutting board with fresh bread and a pitcher. 

Minseok groans a little, trying to roll around without making Baekhyun fall. “What is this service? I thought you hated me.”

Jong In shrugs. “In truth, we don’t know how we feel about you. I turned it over in my head all night, but Chen—Jongdae doesn’t want to kill you, which is reasonable. That’s enough for me to not want to kill you either. And frankly speaking, if my sister died and told me that her children were my responsibility, I would honestly behave the same way you did. Or even worse. Mother knows the lengths I could go to, if their survival was at stake. I’d end up side by side with Se Hun rowing on a chipped bench, galley slave mates for life. So, here, eat something.”

With difficulty, Minseok manages to unlatch Baekhyun from the back of his own shirt and to deposit him next to Kyungsoo. The two of them snuggle against each other subconsciously.

“Where’s Jongdae?” Minseok dares to ask from behind the tankard of milk Jong In had generously poured for him.

Jong In smiles as he nibbles on part of Minseok’s breakfast. “Last I saw him, he was walking on the beach. If what you want to do is talk to him in private, I think you should, but good luck with that. I don’t think you’ll catch him without Se Hun impersonating his shadow.”

“I know it has always been... tense, between Se Hun and I, but is there a specific reason why?”

“Se Hun is probably the most loyal individual you will find in all of the lands. Top of his list are Jun Myeon and Jongdae, so expect him to be quite intransigent when it comes to them,” he shrugs again. “It’s nothing personal. If it was, he wouldn’t have been the first to insist we should find them,” he concludes, pointing at Baekhyun and Kyungsoo.

Minseok finishes eating. “Thank you for finding them, Jong In.”

Jong In simply smiles. “I’ll stay here with them, go look for Jongdae.”

Suspicious about the other’s abrupt change of direction in his stance towards him but unwilling to linger and find out it was just an illusion, Minseok nods and seizes the opportunity.

He finds his way out of the building, wrinkling his nose at the various smells of all the products necessary to build boats and at the overall state of abandonment of the area. Retracing his steps from the previous night, he finds his way out.

After a first second of panic upon not finding his horse—Yixing’s horse, technically, which would have been even worse—he hears the nickering and thumping of horses not far from himself. The door he just opened overlooks a dirty road flanked by other shipyards and warehouses in various states of abandonment, and there’s no one around. He quickly walks around the building, not trusting his luck to be seen in public in a sketchy area with his glaringly non-tattooed arms and his dark hair, and he almost stumbles on his horse in a sort of makeshift stable on the beach.

On the beach.

The  _ beach. _

The Sea is nothing like he had imagined it. Under the sun, it’s sparkling and relentless, with blue and green waves curling over each other to devour the golden sand, lathering when all they manage to rip away from the land is small pebbles and empty, cracked shells.

Like all things beautiful, it’s scary, truly.

Jongdae seems to think the same.

“No,” he begs. “No, please, Yeol, I don’t like this.”

Chan Yeol is hanging off Jongdae’s arm (an unlikely sight) and pleading with him to join him in the water. The weather’s master is barefoot, as usual, but this time all the others are in a similar state, the hems of their pants cuffed to their knees. Jun Myeon looks soaked all the way to his chest, but he doesn’t seem to care since he keeps laughing, skipping in the water.

Se Hun joins Chan Yeol in the pulling action. “Chennie, it’ll be great! You’ve seen Myeon, nothing bad will happen!”

“I can’t swim,” Jongdae grits, balking like a horse, his heels digging in the wet sand.

“You seem to swim just fine in the brook.”

“Because that is a  _ brook. _ ”

“We’ll be holding you all the time!” Chan Yeol promises. “Besides, you don’t have to go in past the ankles. It’s just to feel it!”

Minseok has missed the fussy, pouty look on Jongdae’s face. He leans against the stable, looking ahead with a smile. 

Jongdae shakes his head and tries to squirm away. “What if Mother gets angry? This is not my domain, what if I meddle?”

That seemed like a good point to Minseok, but all the others laugh. “Now you’re just looking for excuses,” Jun Myeon laughs. “Come on, just step closer and wait till the waves reach you. Just once.”

“Listen, I really appreciate that you’d like to share with me something you’re obviously so fond of, but there’s no need, really.”

Se Hun opens his mouth, clearly about to be petulant, when he sees Minseok hovering in the background. “There we go,” he groans. “Here he comes to ruin everything again.”

They all stop to look at Minseok. He feels like this thing of one noticing and the others freezing and staring is becoming a recurring circumstance. It’s unnerving. 

“Is everything alright, Minseok?” Jun Myeon asks.

Minseok nods, unsure. He’s about to say something about how he was just checking on the horse and that he was about to leave, when Chan Yeol smiles. “We were trying to introduce Jongdae to the Sea, but he’s being recalcitrant.”

“I don’t blame him,” Minseok can’t help but answer, raising his voice a little because of the distance, trying to glance at the Sea and finding out he’s unable to do it, because he doesn’t know where to look, it’s so  _ big. _ “It’s terrifying.”

Jongdae doesn’t look at him, but he squares up a little. 

“How is it terrifying?” Jun Myeon lifts his arms in the air, frustrated, and turns around to verify whether they’re actually talking about the same thing.

Minseok gestures vaguely. “It’s so huge and flat and scary.”

“You know what’s terrifying? The Plains,” Jun Myeon counters. “How do you even tolerate that sight? All that landscape stretching until infinity, the horizon— _ that _ is huge and flat and scary, trust me.”

Giggling, Minseok dares to come closer. “But it’s solid. You can walk on that. It doesn’t swallow you.”

“The Sea doesn’t swallow us!”

“Well,” Chan Yeol coughs. “Sometimes.”

“Shut up, Yeol, I’m trying to prove a point here,” Jun Myeon laughs. “It will not swallow you if you put your toes in it. Didn’t you say you have lakes and stuff like that?”

“But I can see the other side of a lake, and its bottom, this—this is infinite.”

“It’s not. I’ve seen what’s on the other side,” Chan Yeol shrugs. “Multiple times, at the end of each of my jobs.”

“But we can’t now,” Minseok objects. “So you can’t blame us.”

Jongdae nods smugly.

It’s little, pathetic solidarity, but Minseok will beg for those scraps if he has to.

“Good thing the kids are not cowards like you,” Jong In interjects from behind.

Baekhyun and Kyungsoo dart near him, running excitedly towards the waves. Baekhyun grabs Minseok’s hand and pulls, and in the time it takes Minseok to stop balking Kyungsoo is already stomping in the water to his knees, frowning at the splashes that wet his clothes.

“You let them do this before?”

Jong In is running behind Kyungsoo, making sure he wouldn’t trip, so Jun Myeon is the one who answers. “Yesterday. Don’t worry, we were all keeping an eye on them, safety first. Although you should maybe consider us suitable advisors, when it comes to water. It’s our element.”

“Uncle Min, come play?” Baekhyun pleads, his bare feet pattering in circles around him, his toes digging in the sand. “Come on, please, let’s go, please, Uncle Min, please—”

“Uncle Min is not sure, Baek.” Minseok keeps an eye on Kyungsoo, who is now crouching and collecting pebbles in his small fists, Jong In next to him very focused on helping him.

“Come on, Baekhyunnie, come with me.” Chan Yeol offers, and Baekhyun immediately takes off behind him.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Chan Yeol and I’m friends with your brother.”

“You can’t. You must be me friend first.” And they chase each other in the low waves, their clothes getting wetter and their smiles getting wider by the second.

“Look, the Sea hasn’t swallowed neither of them,” Se Hun tells Jongdae, who was just observing quietly. “Maybe you could try too? No one is asking you to dive from a cliff to reach the bottom of the sea and collect nacres, but—”

“No.”

Se Hun sighs. Minseok silently takes off his boots and decides to man up. He can’t swim, but he supposes he could run if a huge wave were to rise.

“Well, I suddenly hope the Sea would swallow him—”

“Se Hun.”

Minseok supposes he has to be heartened that Jongdae reprimands Se Hun instead of making sympathetic noises.

“I have to give you credit,” Chan Yeol mutters to Minseok once he’s stepping on the cold, wet sand near the water’s edge. “I still haven’t proclaimed whether or not I want to drown you in the bay, and you’re putting yourself in such an advantageous position…”

Minseok glares at him, but it’s playful, and they both laugh. Chan Yeol offers his elbow, and Minseok grabs it and carefully steps forward. 

The Sea licks at him to his calves, then retires without claiming him.

“See? Nothing happened.”

Minseok smiles. It’s the first, genuine smile that he makes in so long. He lets Chan Yeol go, and he turns around.

Jongdae is staring at him, skeptical. “How is it?”

“Cold.”

Jongdae winces. “Why do you keep forgetting that the cold doesn’t affect me? That’s not relevant information for me.”

“I didn’t forget. But answering ‘wet’ sounded a lot more stupid.”

For a glorious moment, Jongdae’s lips curl a little.

Minseok could literally dive from the aforementioned cliff out of pure bliss. Suddenly there’s the sensation, familiar but long forgotten, of warmth spreading in his own chest that he used to feel on the very first days of his acquaintance with the weather’s master whenever he succeeded at making him crack a smile.

Even Se Hun snorts and tries to cover it up with a cough. 

Bare minutes after that, Minseok is in the water to his knees, chasing Baekhyun around while Kyungsoo continues filling the pockets of his uncle’s trousers with pebbles. He doubts the younger is using it as a strategy to make his uncle slower, but it’s working, and soon Baekhyun is teaming up with Chan Yeol as he plays tag with him.

Minseok had nearly forgotten what it meant to see them smile so widely. Maybe it’s because of their young age, that it’s so easy to blow away the clouds from their mind as it’s easy to clear the sky when Jongdae is happy. 

“Yes, this too.” Minseok nods, opening his hand to receive the splintered pink shell that Kyungsoo is offering. He looks around, from where he’s sitting on the foreshore. Baekhyun is kicking the waves when they reach his toes, laughing, on his left. Jongdae is sitting on the sand behind them, looking at the sky.

“This too,” Kyungsoo muses, this time showing an orange, round shell. Minseok had never seen those up close before, only strings of them clinking around the neck of the merchants when he was a kid.

“Want to make a necklace with this? It has a hole in it.”

Kyungsoo beams. “Yes!”

“We’ll ask Jong In for a string, later. What do you think? We can make one for Baek, too.”

Nodding vigorously, Kyungsoo sets off in pursuit of more jewelry-worthy fragments. “String to Jonging.”

Minseok leans back on his arms, the sun beating his face. It’s true, that the sun here is different than on the Plains and on the Mountain. Also, the winter here is very far away.

When Kyungsoo comes back, it’s with something blueish in his hands. “Go ask Baek if he likes it,” Minseok suggests, pointing at his left. 

Except that Baekhyun is not there. He can’t see Baekhyun. Or hear him, which is twice as worrying.

Minseok jumps to his feet, holding Kyungsoo’s hand. “Baek?” he calls.

There’s no answer, only the incessant roaring of the waves. 

Baekhyun can’t swim.

Dread is like a needle, more like thousands of needles, on Minseok’s skin. “Soo, go to Jong In and bring him the shells,” he whispers urgently, and Kyungsoo takes off in the direction of the horses where Jong In and Chan Yeol had been chatting for a while, pointing appreciatively at the silver horse. Jun Myeon had left claiming he had work to do.

Jongdae, perceiving Minseok’s distress, stands up as well. “What’s wrong?”

“Baekhyun!” Minseok shouts. “Baekhyun!”

He turns around, only to stumble on Jongdae. “I can’t see Baekhyun—I can’t find him, Dae!”

Jongdae’s eyes widen, and he immediately spins to look around. “Baekhyun!” he calls, too.

Minseok runs along the shoreline, trying to see in the waves. But the sun’s reflection in the water is blinding, and his fear is, too, and breathing is also the most difficult thing he has ever done.

“Baekhyun!”

He hears the voices of the others getting closer, worried, but he ignores them, until he sees something moving in the water out of the corner of his eye, and his heart and mind and body leap in that direction. Except that it’s not Baekhyun, it’s Jongdae. 

He’s running against the waves, water up to his waist, and he’s drenched, and he keeps running. 

Minseok can’t understand anything, except that millions of shell shards and little stones stab the soles of his feet as he runs towards him as well. And then Jongdae turns around, and he’s holding Baekhyun, and they’re both sputtering but they’re both moving and looking at him.

“Jongdae!” Chan Yeol is screaming on top of his lungs, and he’s side by side with Minseok, running in the water, but despite being clumsy and not used to this willful water that pushes at his hips and pulls at his ankles, Minseok gets there first. 

He relieves Jongdae of Baekhyun’s weight. He lifts the kid up, high above the sea level, and he looks at his face constellated with drops of water. But his droopy eyes are open and searching. “Uncle Min! I d-don’t know what happened, Uncle Min!”

Minseok smothers him in a hug, and the kid immediately latches onto him with arms and legs, which makes it easier for him to reach out to steady Jongdae.

Jongdae holds onto him until he can stand straight, wobbling in the waves but otherwise unharmed, and they pull each other to the beach, Chan Yeol splashing to them and immediately giving his help. 

Baekhyun is crying when Minseok finally collapses on the dry, hot sand of the beach, far from the water. He’s crying and Minseok doesn’t have the heart to tell him to be more careful, to tell him to listen to them when they tell him not to play in the water by himself next time because Minseok is  _ sure _ that all of them had told him at least one time per each that he should  _ not  _ go in the water. But of course Baekhyun is impossible to control and he had chosen the only second in which none of the adults was looking at him to do exactly that.

“I’m s-sorry, Uncle Min, so sorry, there w-was a little fish, I wanted just to see the little fish—” Baekhyun sobs, his face hidden against his neck, and Minseok can’t focus on anything else than the unsteady breathing of the kid for many, many heartbeats. That’s why it takes him so long to realise his other arm is wound around someone else, and Jongdae is pressed close to him as well. 

“Baek, listen to me,” Minseok looks at the tear-stricken kid. “Please be careful, all right? Don’t do that again, please, don’t scare me like that,” he whispers urgently.

Baekhyun shakes his head so vehemently that the water in his hair hits his uncle’s face. “No—no, Uncle, s-sorry,”

“What happened?” Se Hun falls to his knees next to them after crossing the beach in a run. Jong In is holding Kyungsoo, who seems utterly confused, though not scared because he can’t perceive the gravity of the situation.

“Baekhyun was in the deep water.” Jongdae’s voice is shaky.  _ He _ is shaky.

Se Hun immediately studies the child. “Baekhyunnie? Did you drink water?”

Baekhyun shrinks, under scrutiny. “A l-little?”

Chan Yeol is panting next to them. “I don’t think he did, he’s not coughing.”

“A little? Do you feel alright? Can you breathe just fine?”

Nodding, the child grips Minseok’s shirt and hides. Se Hun turns to Jongdae. “What about you? Did you go underwater?”

Jongdae answers a negative, but it all comes crashing down on Minseok at once and he can’t deal anymore. He curls around his sister’s kid and pulls Jongdae close to himself, his forehead pressed to his wet shirt on the shoulder, and shuts down. 

Jongdae doesn’t move away, doesn’t reject his touch, and Minseok can’t even focus on that because for a second he had thought he lost them both, but they’re here, they’re panting and shaking but they’re all in one piece.

Jongdae cards his fingers through his hair and whispers softly in his ear. The sun is not the only thing that can warm him up.

-

Apparently, after years of failed experiments, Minseok found out that a near-death experience was the only way to shut Baekhyun up for more than five consecutive minutes. But of course he still rather prefers the little boy when he’s loud and annoying, because putting him through any kind of misery is simply not worth the quiet.

But there is a second consequence to the drowning experience that no one had probably forecasted; Baekhyun grips at Jongdae’s sleeves the whole day, so even if Jongdae wanted to go somewhere else and be left alone he wouldn’t be able to do so. And since Minseok was more or less gripping onto Baekhyun the whole day and definitely never leaving him out of his sight, still shell shocked, that meant they were all stuck together.

Minseok didn’t mind; it led to many awkward monosyllabic conversations between them, but it also meant Jongdae was forced to acknowledge his presence. 

It also meant Kyungsoo napped on Jongdae’s lap after lunch, and Baekhyun made the ugliest drawing ever (he never draws and it shows) and gifted it to the weather’s master. They like their new friend, apparently. They still don’t make an effort to pronounce his name correctly, and no one felt the need to tell them he’s more than just a human.

It’s not until Jun Myeon comes back in the evening, after they ate, that the episode is brought up explicitly again.

“Hello, kids!” he greets excitedly. “How was your day?”

And Baekhyun starts sobbing.

“He nearly drowned,” Minseok explains before Jun Myeon can cry too. “And, uh, Jongdae saved him.”

“Oh, dear,” Jun Myeon pats on Baekhyun’s head. Then the information fully registers and he turns to Jongdae so quickly he gets whiplash. “You went in the water?”

“To the shoulders,” Chan Yeol confirms proudly.

Jongdae grimaces. He has spent the day scratching his skin and grumbling about the salt, and he had also begrudgingly admitted that no, Mother was not angry at him, in response to Se Hun’s unrelenting prodding. He’s wearing a change of Jong In’s clothes, that are obviously too big on him. But he looks good in blue.

Jun Myeon sits next to Minseok and rubs Baekhyun’s back. “It’s alright, you’re fine now. Was it very scary?”

Baekhyun nods, waiting for Minseok to clean his tears and snot. “Very scary!” he confirms emphatically, then his expression crumples. “Scary like Wunjung.”

Everyone stiffens at that. “What’s Wunjung?” Minseok inquires.

“Woo Jung,” Jun Myeon says carefully. “Is the name of the... man who brought them here.”

Minseok hugs Baekhyun closer reflexively.

“From what we could gather from them,” Se Hun says darkly. “He did not... hurt them. He was just... well, very scary.”

Seeing the way Minseok was progressively swelling with anger, Jun Myeon moves the placating rubbing sessions from Baekhyun’s back to Minseok’s. “We looked, Minseok. We checked. They weren’t hurt physically when they arrived here.”

“Also,” Se Hun provides. “Woo Jung is not that kind of sla—of trader, according to the records. The kind of people he dealt with was the one who could have hurt kids and enjoyed it, but luckily we will never find out. Woo Jung was probably chosen by the wisemen because of his secrecy, not because of his manners.”

“Must not be so secret if you found them so easily.”

“We had the advantage of Jong In not knowing his limits when he befriends the wrong kind of people.”

As if summoned, Jong In enters the room with Kyungsoo. “May we have your attention please, everyone! Oh, hello, Myeon. Good that you’re here too. Kyungie and I have a big surprise for you all!”

Kyungsoo is holding a satchel and beaming. Minseok could cry of happiness just looking at his sweet smile, but he’s a little preoccupied with the way Baekhyun’s little chest is still shaking in small sobs.

“Oh no,” Jong In notices it too. “What happened to Baekhyunnie?”

“Scary water,” Baekhyun mumbles.

Jongdae makes a sympathetic sound that makes Minseok almost laugh.

Jong In makes a jump. “But we have the solution, don’t we, Kyungie? We have created these special magical amulets that will protect everyone forever!”

Minseok sees the strings in Kyungsoo’s hands and almost cries for real. 

“Soo, one for your brother first, what do you think?”

Kyungsoo skips to them, gives a very brief hug to Baekhyun, then proceeds to almost choke him with the string of the necklace he created. The purple seashell is enough to distract the older from his fright, and when he smiles everyone cheers. 

Next, Minseok watches with his heart full as Kyungsoo trots to Jongdae and gives him one.

The impression Minseok got was that Jongdae had looked terrified of the kids. Almost as terrified of them as he was of the Sea. Which is ridiculous, but adorable, too, and sad because Minseok knows that the reason is that Jongdae hadn’t seen a child ever since he was a child himself and he had looked in a mirror, isolated under the care of the Council.

So Jongdae accepts the gift with the same small cattish smile he had used all day long with them, relaxed enough to fool them but not enough to fool Minseok. He turns the shell over and over in his hands, before looking for help in Minseok. Minseok nods encouragingly as he wears his own.

Each of them is awarded a necklace, and it almost gives Chan Yeol (and surprisingly, Se Hun) a case of the weeps. 

It’s not until Baekhyun has fallen asleep in Minseok’s arms and Kyungsoo in Chan Yeol’s, that any serious argument is brought up. 

“Have you thought about it?” Jun Myeon asks. “Because I have. I would be ready to leave in two days.”

“It still doesn’t sit well with me.” Minseok purses his lips. 

“I don’t like it, either,” Jongdae shakes his head. “But we need to talk to your friend Yixing.”

“If anything, I’m the one who should do it,” Minseok shifts Baekhyun’s weight from one leg to the other. “But I don’t see how anything changed from the moment he helped me escape. I am still wanted, and there is still no proof about the wisemen’s wrongdoings apart from my word. Which means absolutely nothing, in a trial.”

“How could you say you have no proof?” Jongdae says quietly.

“They have both the letters they sent me. Those were the only written documents where something about my mission had been ever stated. Even if those were in my hands, they wouldn’t even be relevant. I haven’t signed anything, no one saw their emissary approaching me since I found that man in my home in the middle of the night, and—”

Jongdae huffs out a small laugh. “Am I not proof enough?”

Jong In almost falls off his chair. Se Hun, who had had his face resting on the palm of his hand, almost slips. 

“Jongdae…” Jun Myeon begins.

Minseok is at a loss for words. He cradles Baekhyun’s head with one hand as he leans forward. “No way. No. Not a chance.”

“You know it’s the only way—”

“They were looking for you!” Minseok hisses. “They sent people on your Mountain, in your  _ home, _ to look for you!”

“But they didn’t find me. Which means I’m not a pawn in their manipulation game.”

“You don’t even know what they wanted from you! What if they wanted to imprison you?”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“They dared to condemn you to a life of isolation and heartbreak once, what makes you think they wouldn’t do it again?”

“Let me help you!” Jongdae strains, his fingers gripping the edge of the table.

Minseok holds his breath. “Why?”

Jongdae squints, daring him to contradict out loud the fact that Jongdae still loves him despite everything. Because he knows that Minseok knows, he has told him. And their land is still green. The seasons are still changing.

“What about your people, Minseok? What do they think about Jongdae?” Jong In asks.

Minseok has to interrupt his stare down with the weather’s master. “They favour him now, obviously. Mother has been very generous lately.”

“That’s positive. Minseok, give us a scenario, even a hypothetical one. We are trying to build chances here, we are not planning anything... yet.” Jun Myeon says, walking back from a cupboard with a jug of wine and six tankards.

Minseok sighs. “If Jongdae went back to the Plains and accused the wisemen... the wisemen would be caught off guard, because they reasonably suppose that, uhm, Jongdae would hate me and would want nothing to do with the Plains anymore.” He accepts the wine Jun Myeon pushes in his direction. “The Council would be appalled, knowing the truth. So would the people. I suppose if Jongdae asked for vengeance for the way the wisemen have exiled him and deliberately hurt him, he would get it. If the people understood that the drought was caused by the way the wisemen have acted towards Jongdae, there’s no doubt that the five would be lynched on the spot.” He coughs. “I’m not the only person who lost someone in the drought.”

There’s one evident flaw in this plan. Minseok fidgets, and he figures the others can see it too.

Se Hun pushes his golden hair back on his head after drinking from his tankard. “Chen has been  _ our _ weather’s master, though. He said that he has interrupted his bond to the Plains because of his isolation, but it doesn’t change the fact that in the eye of your nation, we bought his loyalty and we got it. For many years.”

“Well, Jongdae could just avoid mentioning that?” Chan Yeol hopefully asks.

“It’s not too hard to find out, it’s general knowledge for most of your people, and if this rumour spreads the wisemen could use the situation to their advantage and declare war to the Sea or something,” Minseok grumbles.

“They would never!”

“Oh, trust me, they are arrogant assholes like that.”

Jongdae lifts his shoulders. “I don’t see the issue. I was born tied to the Plains, but there is no human authority that can tell me who I remain tied to. I am free to ‘master’ whichever domain I like.”

“But Chennie, you always said that you bonded to us involuntarily.”

Jongdae smirks. “The wisemen don’t need to know that.”

“You would give credit to their arguments about you being a hateful deity,” Minseok shakes his head.

“Except that I’m not. I had all the rights to want them to pay for what they did to me, but I never even remotely considered it. Besides, even if I wanted to burn the Plains with the sun, you all forget that I don’t choose the weather more than I can choose how to feel.”

“But they don’t know it.”

“Minseok,” Jongdae is losing his patience. “Let me do this for you and the kids. I can save you. But let me also do it for myself, and for our people. Let me get rid of these men.”

-

“Good morning.”

Jongdae keeps looking at the Sea, but when Minseok comes up beside him he sees a faint smile on his lips. “You’re up early.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

There are shadows under Jongdae’s eyes. Minseok assumes he’s not the only one who had a lot to mull over. 

He notices they are so close to the water because it touches their toes, making him flinch because it’s cold.

“Dae, if you have even the slightest of doubts, we don’t have to do this.”

“Maybe I want to do this,” Jongdae explains with a lazy voice, but his features are set. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t want to. I agree with Se Hun on this, you have little to no instinct of self-preservation.”

A particularly noisy wave fills the subsequent pause. Water laps at their insteps. 

“You’re not scared of the water anymore.”

“Well, I usually prefer gradual exposure to things, but Baekhyun didn’t really leave me a choice,” Jongdae chuckles.

Minseok doesn’t even wonder whether he’s overstepping. Being so close to Jongdae, loving him so much, makes him forget his place. But Jongdae only seems mildly surprised when Minseok grabs his hand. “Jongdae, thank you. For everything.”

_ For still caring for me even when I hurt you. For asking Jun Myeon to find the kids before it was too late. For saving Baekhyun. For what you’re willing to do now. _

“Don’t thank me.” Jongdae avoids his gaze, and Minseok is forced to look at his gorgeous side profile and at his hair swept to the side by the breeze. He doesn’t pull his hand away, their palms sliding together and their fingers lacing.

Only now Minseok realises how much he had relied on the weather to understand Jongdae better. Now that the weather’s master stands next to him as a human, his emotions still affecting the land but not visible nor tangible by those next to him, Minseok feels more vulnerable. Which is paradoxical. But things are more fair like this. He’s sure Jongdae doesn’t mind the sudden privacy he’s allowed to, especially now that it must be so hard to have Minseok so close all the time, like a painful, mocking reminder of how cruel the world can be.

Jongdae looks so matured.

“I can hear myself here.”

“What?”

“I can hear that I was here.”

“You were—oh. The years during which you were the weather’s master of the Sea?”

Jongdae sneers. “I wonder when people will stop calling me ‘master’. But yes. I can hear... my presence.” He looks down, at his feet slowly sinking in the foreshore thanks to the incessant workings of the waves. “Yet I could never seep in the Sea. I’m afraid it couldn’t have lasted very long, and thankfully it didn’t. I’m made to run with the lymph of the earth, not to float and sink in the Sea.”

Minseok squeezes his hand a little.

Jongdae inhales deeply, then nods to himself. “I think I want to go home, Minseok.”

He’s not talking about his hut on the Mountain.

-

No amount of preparation would have gotten Minseok ready for the gentle backflips his heart does whenever he sees Jongdae with the kids. It fills his heart with affection until it spills, the way the weather’s master is so hesitant around them while the kids stomp over his hesitance ruthlessly. They grab his hands and show him things, bickering to talk over the other, taking advantage of the fact that they have been in the shipyard longer than their Uncle Min so they know their way around it. 

Minseok is carrying Kyungsoo on his shoulders the following day, listening to the gibberish the child is crooning (he had started telling him about how he played with Yixing’s governess, ending with a very long elaborate story about what he had dreamt last night) when he runs into Baekhyun in the beach stables, giving Jongdae a lecture about Yixing’s horse.

“And they go clop-clop faster than the others,” Baekhyun is gesturing wildly. He’s wearing his shirt inside-out. “You know?”

“Clop-clop faster than any other horse, got it.” Jongdae looks like he wants to be rescued, but he’s running one hand between the eyes of the silver horse and he’s holding Baekhyun’s with the other.

Jongdae’s gaze softens when he sees Kyungsoo playing with (pulling and ripping) Minseok’s hair. “I think your nephew took after you. He really likes horses.”

Minseok ruffles Baekhyun’s head. “He was the candidate to inherit the family business. I suppose it runs in his veins.”

Baekhyun nods, haughty. “Baekhyunnie big stable boss one day.”

Jongdae laughs heartily at that. “I’m sure you will be.”

“Soo like horses too.” Kyungsoo lets his uncle’s hair go, and it flops over his forehead. He huffs it away, and decides that his poor heart is suffering enough without misinterpreting the way Jongdae looks at him as fondness. 

“Of course you do. But you’re going to be an artist, right, Soo? Here.” Minseok lifts Kyungsoo and sits him on the saddless back of Hilro, that lowers his head and stomps a little. “Hold the mane. Gently, Soo, just to keep balance. There you go. Baek, wanna hop on too?”

Baekhyun raises his grabby hands in a way that suggests that he obviously had taken it for granted. “Wannabe taller than you.”

“I’m sure you’ll be, one day.” Minseok huffs as he sits him behind Kyungsoo. “It doesn’t take much to be taller than me, though. Even Jongdae is taller than me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jongdae mocks being offended, and for a second Minseok thinks the other is going to jab him playfully.

The kids laugh, and the horse pushes his head against Jongdae’s chest to sniff him better, which makes him jump in surprise. There’s more laughing, and more backflips in Minseok’s heart.

“You’re good with the kids,” he comments as they walk back in. In front of them, Baekhyun is yelling a song that Minseok is not entirely sure doesn’t contain Sea curses. Kyungsoo draws lines on the sand with a stick, trudging behind his brother.

Jongdae raises his brows. “Considering that they’re the first kids I’ve seen in my life, I find your observation very reassuring.”

“Jongdae, thank you for enduring. I know it’s not easy for you to be around me after what I did to you.”

Jongdae looks up, at the Mountain still swathed in white. There are clouds curling around the highest peaks. He sighs. “Sometimes I feel like it’d be harder not to be around you.”

Baekhyun lets out a shriek when Chan Yeol jumps from behind the corner yelling “boo!” and Jong In chases Kyungsoo when he starts running around.

Minseok remains on the beach for a while, looking at the Mountain without really seeing it.

-

Se Hun came to bid them goodbye when they left. His boatswain exam was coming up and he couldn’t leave Hang Gu. Chan Yeol also needed to stay because the enterprise that hired him was going to resume trips as soon as the Islands’ monsoons cleared out.

So only Jun Myeon and Jong In joined Minseok, Jongdae and the kids on the caravan directed to the Plains. 

Chan Yeol cried a lot, which made it very hard to leave. Se Hun had looked a little unstable as well, proven by the way he had clung to everyone  _ including  _ Minseok while at the same time hissing threats in his ear.

They wore rags tied around their heads to hide their dark hair, and hats on top of them. Being adults, Jongdae and Minseok were supposed to have tattoos so they wore long sleeves as well at all times. It became less of a burden when they came close to the Plains, where winter was almost kicking in.

A lot of civilians joined the caravans because of their travels, to seek the protection of the numbers and the solidarity of other travelers, so no one questioned the presence of the two young men and the children. They rode all day for days, Jongdae on a nice mare borrowed from Jun Myeon’s family, and Minseok on Jun Myeon’s horse. Jun Myeon rode Hilro, since it was a renowned and prestigious breed that could have attracted attention if it had been a peasant who rode him.

Jongdae had to add his lack of experience in riding horses to the general discomfort of being far from anything he knew and going into another unknown situation, being forced to hide, being in the middle of a small crowd when he was used to being alone with his thoughts, and suddenly finding himself in charge of a child. Because apparently, Baekhyun had decided he liked his new friend more than he liked his Uncle Min.

But he’s doing great, and after a few days of Minseok riding next to him while holding the reins of the mare, Jongdae got the hang of it and even trusted himself and his mount enough to allow Baekhyun to sit in front of him or behind him (or on him) on the saddle.

To keep the kids occupied, Minseok and Jong In had to resort to all the games and the songs and the activities they could think of. But after a week Baekhyun and Kyungsoo are starting to be obviously agitated and bored, and no matter the amount of leaps they do around the places where they camp at night, their energy reserves seem bottomless and each passing day they get closer to disaster, apparent in the way the brothers tend to bicker and pull each other’s hair more and more often.

Minseok tried to talk to them about the slave traders. They didn’t tell him anything bad, just that it was really scary and dark in the place where he had kept them while he transferred them, probably the back of some carriage, and that he had talked to them in a scary way, always screaming. He can’t find out more than what they had already told Jun Myeon and the others, and while it’s reassuring that they don’t have traumatic events to report, it’s horrible how deeply they had understood their predicament anyway. They are explicit when they say that man had wanted to give them away, and while they struggle to understand the concept of buying and selling and barter, due to their tender age, they are aware of having become something akin to objects. 

Minseok committed to smothering them in hugs and telling them how much they are treasured every day, to make the impression definitively subside. He compliments them when they do something right and encourages them to choose what they want to do, to eat and to drink as much as he can, though being in a caravan doesn’t really allow much freedom. He talks about the future. He tries to reassure them that he’s there for them and he will do better from now on.

He doesn’t expect the effects to bear fruit in the short term, but they’re doing a lot better than when Minseok found them, but if they haven’t lost their energies the same cannot be said of their reserves of carefree joy a kid should be drawing from at all times. While Kyungsoo sometimes becomes a lot more taciturn and hesitant, Baekhyun has tripled his combative efforts.

“You stay put, Baekhyun, or I swear I’ll get angry for real,” Minseok tries to speak firmly as he holds Baekhyun in place before he can run away again. The caravan has started moving, they are going to be left behind.

“No! I want to go see the little sea!”

“You cannot go to the lake, Baek, I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” Baekhyun flails his arms.

“I already told you ten times. That’s it, I’ll strap you to my saddle while I explain it to you the eleventh time.”

Baekhyun’s wailing is so acute it can probably only be heard by bats in the Mountain’s caves and by dolphins in the Sea.

“What’s wrong?” Jun Myeon trots next to them.

Minseok starts securing Baekhyun onto the gelding. “It’s all right, Myeon. We’re right behind you, don’t worry.”

“I don’t want to ride here! I don’t wanna! I don’t wanna!”

Jun Myeon seems perplexed, but he goes back to the caravan where Jong In is riding in circles to make sure they’re not leaving anyone else behind. Officially, Jong In has been hired as a helper by Jun Myeon. He just wanted to be on board for another adventure, one without sails to unfurl on top of unstable mainmasts. Chan Yeol was probably happier.

“What’s the matter with you, Baek?” Minseok huffs, seizing the kid by his blouse before he can crash on the ground. 

“I wanna stay with Jonday! I don’t wanna stay with you!” Baekhyun bites Minseok’s arm, grunting, until his uncle lets him go and he’s free to run to Jongdae and hug his leg.

Jongdae stares back at Minseok with wide eyes. 

“Baek, you have to stay with your uncle—” he starts, soothing, but Baekhyun growls and stomps his feet. 

“Don’t have to. Don’t want it.”

“Baek…”

“It’s fine,” Minseok interrupts Jongdae’s next attempt. “We have to go before we’re left behind. Come on,” he sniffles, as subtly as possible. “Soo, you ready?”

Kyungsoo nods, uncertain. “Y-yes?”

Minseok bends down and scoops him up, hauling onto his horse. “Let’s go.”

Hours later, Jongdae pushes his mare next to where Minseok is riding in silence, the reins abandoned, quietly helping Kyungsoo braiding and unbraiding the long, reddish mane of the horse.

“He’s asleep,” Jongdae quietly reports.

With a glance, Minseok verifies that Baekhyun is indeed sleeping, his cheek squished on Jongdae’s back. “Good.”

“Minseok, I don’t know if it’s about me, but I’m sorry.”

Minseok extends an arm to pat on Jongdae’s shoulder. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault that he hates me because I left them behind.”

“He doesn’t, he was not mad at you when you met them again.”

“Well, deeper feelings come out when provoked. It’s fine. I can’t blame him.”

“He’ll grow up and he will understand that you didn’t have a choice.”

“Did I?”

Jongdae tilts his head.

Minseok sighs. “I don’t know, Dae. I wish they didn’t draw my name. Maybe I would have starved to death, but at least I wouldn’t have to look at myself with disgust because of the decisions I made and the people I hurt.”

Jongdae, surprisingly, doesn’t react badly. “I am quite happy they drew your name, Minseok. I doubt anyone else would have managed all of this like you did.”

Snorting, Minseok looks at him. “You’re right, they would have probably done a much better job.”

“No, I don’t think so. And they wouldn’t be precious enough to me to push me to be where I am.”

It takes several seconds to realise that Jongdae was talking to him, and what exactly he had said. Jongdae spurs his horse forward, to flank Jong In who coos at Baekhyun enough to attract the attention of Jun Myeon, too.

The sun shines on Jongdae’s black hair, and the weather’s master keeps his back straight as he rides under a roof of yellow and orange leaves that fall quietly like the snow had fallen around him on the Mountain. 

“Jonday said you precious.”

Minseok snaps out of his reverie when Kyungsoo talks. 

“I... guess so?”

Kyungsoo giggles, as he irremediably tangles two braids together in a knot that resembles the way Minseok’s thoughts are tangled together. Minseok will spend the afternoon trying to undo it to avoid cutting half the mane off of Jun Myeon’s horse. While he’s sure the Sea people don’t value horses the same way he does, it still wouldn’t be very nice to give him back a mangy creature.

-

The scenery changes. And not just in the way Minseok, from where he rides in the back of the caravan, can see more and more dark heads in the crowd in front of him. But it’s when he realises that all the travelers from the Sea have abandoned the convoy as they arrived to their destinations, and the only blonde heads he can see are the ones of Jun Myeon and Jong In, besides the workers and the merchants, that he understands that they have passed the borders of the Plains. They’re home.

Unwrapping his head and letting his hair fall down on his forehead, he looks around for Jongdae during their stop for lunch. Jongdae is standing on the sidelines as usual, and he’s looking around with that pensive, deep gaze of his, while sipping on a canteen.

“Dae!” Minseok calls. “You’re home.”

Jongdae, whose hair has been free for a whole day now, smiles. “I know. I don’t know about human borders, but…” He glances at the sky, punctuated with hundreds of small clouds. “I’m with Mother now.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Who told you I wasn’t feeling good before? You were looking at the wrong sky.”

“I admit that more times than I should have, I looked at the sky and relied on its interpretation, but I don’t really need it to know how you’re feeling.”

The fact that Jongdae blushes almost sends Minseok floating into the sky. He doesn’t know  _ which _ or  _ whose _ sky, but still very high nonetheless.

“Then you already know I’m feeling better, you don’t need to ask.”

“He was trying to be conversational with you,” Jong In provides. Minseok hadn’t noticed him sitting on a rock under the nearest evergreen tree. “He’s trying  _ really  _ hard to be forgiven.”

“Thanks, Jong In,” they answer in unison, aggravated though for different reasons.

“You’re welcome. Just so you know, you’re lucky I’m the one who came here instead of Chan Yeol, because he would let out undignified squeals all the time at the sight of you two slowly, romantically reconciling.”

“Just so you know, Jong In, you’re lucky we are older than you and more mature than Chan Yeol, so we can at least pretend we are unimpressed when you and Chan Yeol send heart eyes at each other,” Jongdae answers conversationally, making Jong In sputter and almost fall down the rock in his haste to stand up.

“These are vile accusations!”

Minseok clears his throat. “Not really. It’s a real pity he couldn’t come. You know, the Plains are a horrible place with horrible rulers, but here you wouldn’t have issues with being heart eyes with a man in public.”

Jong In stutters something incoherent, his honey blonde hair barely hiding the perplexed dance of his eyebrow. He resorts to huffing. “I’m going to play with the kids. At least they don’t attack me like this.”

“Be careful of Kyungsoo, he has become really perceptive.”

Jong In stomps away, kicking the piles of dead leaves he encounters. “Baekhyunnie!”

Jongdae chuckles. A sound that Minseok had missed a lot. 

“Too far?” Minseok asks.

“Nope, just the right amount. Without all of this encouragement I would lose my bets with Jun Myeon.”

“Ah, I’ll apologise to Jun Myeon.”

“Just so you know, Jun Myeon and Se Hun have placed bets on us.”

Minseok stops swiping and smoothing the grass with the sole of his foot. “Excuse me? On us?”

Jongdae looks at him curiously. A light breeze accompanies the blush on his cheeks, that matches the colorful foliage behind him. The woods in autumn look like each branch is carrying gemstones, but Jongdae is the most precious of them all. “On us two. On you and I,” he explains.

_ This is, well, interesting. _ Strangled, Minseok manages to utter: “So Jongin was encouraging us to make Se Hun loose?”

“How do you know Se Hun is the one who bet against us?”

“Oh, please, Dae, the kid would probably kick me off the Peaks if he could.”

“He actually bet in favour.”

Minseok stares at Jongdae. It’s obvious that he’s testing him, but he’s doing it with fondness curling his lips and softening the hard lines of his face. Minseok can’t stand to see him like this, because he thought he lost this, he thought all of this was unattainable. Jongdae can’t dangle it in front of him as if he's toying with a cat, ready to take it away before he can paw at it, it’s cruel, but Minseok doesn’t really have the right to expect Jongdae to be good to him.

He steps closer to Jongdae, tempted to brush away the leaf that’s tangled in the hair on the crown of his head like a ruby on top of an actual crown, but he changes his mind.

“I have to look for the kids,” he mutters, embarrassed.

“Minseok?”

Minseok trudges back to the camp, confused and not even looking for the kids, until he literally trips over Baekhyun himself.

“Baek, what are you doing?”

“Why you always ask me what I doing? Even when I’m good?”

Minseok exhales and sits in front of him, cross legged on the edge of the road. “I was just curious, Baek.”

“No.” Baekhyun pouts. He keeps playing with the white gravel of the road, his hands white with dust. “You don’t like me anymore.”

“That’s not true, Baek. I thought you were the one who didn’t like me anymore.”

“No no. You gonna leave again.”

Minseok pulls him closer. “That’s not true.”

“You gonna leave again because you don’t like me?”

One of Jun Myeon’s workers starts circling the groups, shouting that they’re leaving camp in a few minutes.

“Hey,” Minseok whispers, “Ride with me today? So we can talk?”

Baekhyun nods, throwing all the little stones away, and grabs his hand.

“Are you cold? Let’s put on that nice scarf Chan Yeol gave you.”

They’re walking to their horse, the caravan bustling with activity as everyone gets ready to leave again, when Minseok sees Jong In walking holding Kyungsoo under his armpits, suspended in the air to be face to face with the giggling kid. “What do you mean you knew my friend likes me, Soo? Who told you? Why wasn’t I informed? You should have told me, because I’m your friend too!”

Jongdae is already holding the horses, and as he passes him the reins they grin at each other and listen to the rambling sailor.

“What do you mean  _ Chan Yeol  _ told you?!”

-

The road to Su Do had been remarkably free of incidents. Minseok had expected inspections, searches, checkpoints, and in truth, he had seen them. Except that the Plains were looking for someone alone traveling out of the territory, not for a group coming in.

All he had to do was wear a hat whenever a band of guards passed them, but no one even spared a glance at the travelers that started gathering at the trail of Jun Myeon’s caravan, people looking for a safer passage to Su Do. They checked Jun Myeon’s permissions and goods before they nodded and gave him their welcome, glad to see their land starting to commerce again after they had been left for dead during the drought.

“This is my first time in your country, Minseok, but the merchants are telling me that tomorrow we might reach Su Do. It’s time we decide what to do.”

Minseok slows his pace when Jun Myeon flanks him. He had recognised the place, obviously, and had already spent the day planning, closed in himself to the point that Jong In had asked him several times whether he was feeling alright.

“Jun Myeon, do you have obligations in Su Do?”

“I have to get stamps for my father at your House of Commerce, and my father asked me to look around for potential customers to make contracts for the next season. But since I have a week here, I can say I count on having a lot of free time.”

Minseok had barely noticed Jongdae had started walking on his other side, but he’s suddenly aware of being observed. It’s also not a coincidence that a cloud is shielding the sun.

“What is it that your father trades, Myeon?”

“Textiles, mostly fine cloth.”

“This is great. Yixing is the heir of the trade empire of his father, though they always only dealt with the Desert. They work with textiles as well, they’re oriented to house furnishing of all kinds. I will give you his address, and the times when it’s most likely to find him at home. Maybe you can ask him to be received to discuss business. He will refuse, initially, because you’re not exactly trading the materials he needs, but if he sees your horse—well, Hilro is his horse. He will understand I sent you and he will let you inside.”

“Sounds doable. Then what?”

“You tell him everything that I told you. Keep no secrets. Tell him what we are going to do. Tell him Jongdae is here, and he is willing to help.”

“You really do trust this man,” Jun Myeon comments.

“Yes. Yes, I do. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here and I certainly wouldn’t have brought Jongdae, Baekhyun and Kyungsoo with me.”

“All right, then. My father told me he has a private section in one of our warehouses in the city, near the market. I suppose you know better than I do where it is. You will hide there until I manage to talk to Yixing.”

“Yixing will come up with a plan once he hears that Jongdae is here.”

“He better. But if we’re not finding an agreement, or we find the whole situation too dangerous, I’m bringing you two back to the Sea with me and I’m locking you in the shipyard.”

-

From a shipyard to a warehouse, it doesn’t really feel different. 

Minseok rolls the shell pendant of his necklace in his fingers, trying to ease his worries. It’s useless.

Jongdae arrives with a lantern. “What’s that face?”

“It’s nothing in particular.”

Sitting next to him, accompanied by the jangle of the metallic hooks of the lantern, Jongdae sighs. “Did you make peace with Baekhyun?”

“Yes. You’re still his favourite, though.”

Jongdae chuckles. “Oh no, that’s terrible.”

“I know. You will never know silence again.”

Just to prove him right, Baekhyun decides to let out a shout from where he’s perched astride a big roll of green fabric. Jun Myeon probably would have something to say about the way the kids are using his goods as their personal amusement park, but Minseok supposes he can let them have a little fun after they had to stay put for weeks on the road. He has decided he will step in only when Kyungsoo decides the roll of white silk is perfect material whereon to immortalize his doodles.

“What would happen if their father came back?”

Minseok scoffs. “He won’t come back. Trust me, I know the man. He fled as soon as my sister told him about the second pregnancy.”

“Oh, no.”

“I never really liked him, but she was happy with him. His true nature came out only after Baek was born, but she kept loving him. She wouldn’t listen to me, so I decided that rather than fighting her I should stick around to be there for her and the kids. Thank Mother, I did.”

“I think this has been a recurrent problem in your life, Minseok. Being invested with too much responsibility. You shouldered your burdens without wondering whether it was something you could bear. Your parents’ business, then a family that wasn’t yours, then the destiny of your entire country, and my own. It’s too much.”

“I just did what I had to do. And you’re not one to talk, when it comes to responsibilities. You care too much. You deserve more freedom.”

“Maybe so. And you deserve it too. Isn’t it the reason why we’re here?”

“Joon Myeon!” Kyungsoo calls, skidding to the floor and abandoning the ideas he was surely getting about using the silk as his canvas. He runs to the newcomer, who appears in the warehouse with a big smile.

Minseok scampers to his feet. “Did you find Yixing?”

Jun Myeon unclasps his refined cloak from around his neck, playfully putting it on Kyungsoo. “Hello. Yes, I did.”

Baekhyun decides to steal the cloak to make it a cape and runs away with it, much to Kyungsoo’s irritation.

“I met your friend as he was about to enter his home. He saw me immediately, thanks to the horse, and let me in. We talked for a long time.”

Focused, Minseok stands in front of him with his feet wide apart and his jaw set. “Did he believe you?”

“Not initially, but he agreed to listen. He asked me lots of questions, and once he was sure I was really your friend and I was not a special Sea mercenary the wisemen hired to unmask him, he elaborated a plan.” He glances at Jongdae. “Yixing was wondering what levels of exposure you’d agree to reach, Jongdae, and honestly, I am too.”

Jongdae shrugs casually, as if they just asked him what he would like to eat for dinner. “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it, as long as the chances of success are high.”

“Yixing said he’ll confer privately with some of his trusted Council members tomorrow first thing in the morning. If that goes smoothly, he will use their support to refer the matter during the afternoon’s Council meeting.”

“The wisemen cannot be there, they’ll—”

“They will not be there. The wisemen will be busy with emissaries from the Desert, tomorrow, to discuss travel bans and such things.” He sighs. “He seemed pretty positive that it would be successful, but it would make sense if many of the men loyal to the wisemen were to be delators or simply wouldn’t believe what he says. So Yixing suggests that you, Jongdae, go with him tomorrow afternoon, and tell the whole story yourself.”

“What if it’s a trap?” Minseok counters.

Jun Myeon shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “You seemed ready to bet your right arm on Yixing’s loyalty, what changed now?”

“I’ve been fooled one too many times recently, I wouldn’t trust a man from the Plains even if they told me the sky is blue right now! Being here is unnerving,” Minseok paces, frustrated. “Of course I trust Yixing, it’s the people around him I don’t trust. Jongdae cannot just expose himself like that!”

Jongdae stops him the next time he paces by where he’s sitting. “Hey, Minseok. Calm down. Do you trust Yixing, yes or no?”

“Yes.” 

“Good. And I trust you,” he says with disarming simplicity. He looks over to Jun Myeon. “I’ll go.”

If Jun Myeon is at least half as surprised as Minseok is by his sudden declaration, he doesn’t show it. “Great. Then tomorrow I’m supposed to meet Yixing for lunch to discuss the goods he’s buying from me. He’ll give me instructions on what to do with you according to the feedback he received from his first meetings. You won’t have a problem being seen in public, no one knows what you look like, so I can pick you up then.”

“What about Minseok? He’s wanted. He cannot follow us so easily.”

“Yixing and I agreed that Minseok should remain here.”

Minseok snaps out of his elated confusion and plummets back to his reality filled with worry. “What?”

Jongdae hums. “I agree.”

“No way! I won’t stay here knowing Jongdae is going into the jaws of the Council, not a chance!”

Jongdae clasps his shoulder and shrugs him a little. “Why are we here, Minseok? If you get arrested—or worse, killed—before we can prove your innocence, it’d be all for nothing. You shall remain hidden here, with the kids!” he asserts with fervor.

Minseok hears thunder, far away outside. 

He was so unaccustomed to the sound he flinches and looks up reflexively. 

Jongdae answers his questioning gaze with a little smirk.

“What if they hurt you?” Minseok whispers.

“Then it’d mean they forgot I can hurt them, too. They cast me out because my emotions were raw, because I nearly caused deaths when I was a kid,” he swallows and lowers his gaze. “I have never elaborated on that, but it’s true that when I was a child... I had little to no control over the weather. Not that I have any nowadays, but…”

“You don’t have to tell us if it troubles you,” Minseok quietly reminds him.

“No, you should know. They cast me out for a reason. My reactions were... disproportioned. Something like what you saw on the Mountain, Minseok, except that it was like that all the time.”

Minseok gulps.

“So putting me away had been probably good. I grew up alone, my bond with Mother grew up tamed.” He rights himself. “But they don’t know it. They don’t know what I can do, they don’t know what I’ve done.” He pulls Minseok closer, looking at him in the eyes carefully. “You said the wisemen think I’m an evil deity. I came here to prove them wrong, but if they threaten to harm us and causing their fear is what I need to do to make sure they won’t dare, then I will do it.”

“That’s not you.”

“No, it’s not me. But you saw what you did to me. If they dared to even touch us, I’m sure I won’t be able to control myself enough to spare them the same reaction.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation and the growl of the clouds above, Jun Myeon snorts beside them. “Jongdae’s speciality are sudden bolts of lightning, Minseok. I’ve seen him release one for much less than an insult or an unwanted touch. He’ll just put on a show and they will believe it, because they don’t know him like we do. We’ll be safe.”

All further objections are silenced by Jongdae’s lifted eyebrow.

They don’t have much to discuss after that, so they prepare to sleep. Jun Myeon and Jong In are sharing a room in a lodging nearby, while the fugitives have built their little camp nestled between the piles of trunks containing Jun Myeon’s goods and their wagons.

“The end. Sleep tight,” Minseok whispers, kissing Kyungsoo’s forehead and fixing the blankets around his small frame. 

It feels good to be able to provide bedtime stories for their insatiable minds. There’s a story they seem to like a lot, lately, about a prince living on the top of a mountain waiting for his people to welcome him back, and about a knight that is tasked with breaking his heart. Ever since the first time he told it, back at the Sea, they had asked him to repeat it every evening, and Kyungsoo always gasps and Baekhyun always asks questions as if it was the first time they heard it.

In this story, the prince and the knight live happily ever after.

Minseok always makes sure Jongdae is not around when he tells it. 

“Night night, uncle Min,” is the sleepy mutter of the child. “Thank you for story.”

“Uncle Min?” 

“Yes, Baek?”

“Are we going home tomorrow?”

Minseok scoots over and proceeds to coax him under the covers and tucks him in carefully. “Not tomorrow, no. But eventually.” He says as Baekhyun pouts. “I’m sorry, Baek. One day we’ll go home.”

“I don’t care,” the kid blinks up at him with wide eyes. He bites his lips. “I just care—it’s not bad like this, I just want that you are with me.”

Minseok has to bite his tongue very forcefully, trying not to cry. “Thank you, Baek. I feel the same.” He boops Baekhyun’s little button nose. “What about Soo? You don’t want Soo to be with us?”

Baekhyun chuckles. “Soo can stay.”

Minseok laughs, and wishes him goodnight as well before he trudges to where Jongdae is unrolling the blankets to make his bed. He looks around, but he can’t seem to find his stuff. “Have you seen my sleeping stuff?”

Jongdae wordlessly points at the bedding he was making. 

Minseok stares at the crumpled fabric without seeing it, his brain not really helping him make anything out of the situation. Jongdae never leaving his side whenever he saw him too worried, his declaration of trust, now this bedding that is definitely big enough for two people.

“Dae.”

“I can tolerate you sharing my personal space now, after weeks of being more or less forced to be in your presence. Gradual exposure, remember?”

“Dae.”

“Rather, I cannot tolerate you  _ not _ sharing my personal space. Come here. You’re scared, I’m scared, and you can probably tell because it’s raining. Tomorrow is a big day. The part of me that hates you is much smaller than the part of me that wants to see you safe and free tomorrow.”

Minseok cannot unpeel his gaze from Jongdae as the latter sits down, pats the bedding and judges it decent, before straightening a woolen blanket and covering his own legs. “I thought you said the part of you that was me—was dead.”

Jongdae keeps unfolding the blanket, apparently focused on his task. “Yeah, well, I made a miscalculation. Since there’s been wind, and rain, and thunder, and lightning, and all of that, I suppose that part has come back to life.” He flops down and locks his eyes with Minseok’s. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Oh, no, you’re doing it again.” Jongdae blushes.

Minseok would stomp on his own foot trying not to scream. He doesn’t have to, because there’s no air in his lungs anyway so screaming was never an option. “Doing what?” 

“Looking at me as if you were not sure you were allowed to.”

“Would you look at that, that’s exactly how I feel.”

Jongdae groans and lies down, turning on his side. He doesn’t elaborate on that.

After several minutes of awkward standing, Minseok puts out the lantern he had been holding and lowers the flame of the one at the foot of the bed. He gives up and lies down next to Jongdae, careful not to touch him and barely touching the blanket. 

“Dae, I just. You cannot do this to me now when tomorrow I will be forced to sit here and wait for someone to inform me whether you’ve been arrested or hurt or anything.”

“The sky will inform you. And you won’t be alone. You have Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, and Jong In will stay here too.”

“Sure, nursing my panic while I make sure three children, one of which is way taller and buffer than me, don’t accidentally kill each other while playing, that’s exactly what I need!”

Jongdae turns to him, one eyebrow raised and his eyes sparkling. “Are you throwing a temper tantrum?”

“Yes, I am. Se Hun has momentarily possessed me.”

Jongdae laughs heartily. “I really liked this side of you.”

Minseok’s face falls, hearing the past tense. He tries to smile back anyway, and burrows in the rolled fabric that is his pillow.

“I still like it,” Jongdae informs him.

There’s nothing Minseok would want more than being able to tell Jongdae how much he still loves everything about him, too. How difficult it is for him not to sneak his hand under the blanket and pull him closer, kiss his forehead and run his hand through his hair, because they’re both scared. It’s so hard not to say it out loud;  _ I still love you more than anything, _ but not being believed would crush him.

Jongdae doesn’t seem bothered by his lack of reactions, unaware of the fact that Minseok is silently disintegrating on the inside. Jongdae needs time, after all, gradual exposure; if Minseok vomited out all the blur of his enormous feelings, that wouldn’t be very gradual. He would end up betraying the trust Jongdae is putting in him.

“After I lied to you like that, do you still really?” he asks, regretting it immediately. “Trust me?”

Jongdae nods. “Yes.”

Minseok can hardly believe it could be so simple. But he smiles, and Jongdae smiles back, whispering a goodnight.

-

“I’ll go pee,” Jong In announces, standing up with a small jump. 

“I go pee, too,” Baekhyun immediately follows, and Minseok has to grab him by the back of his shirt.

“We just went, Baek, I’m sure Jong In will like the privacy.”

“What’s mean ‘privassey?’” Baekhyun inquires. His wavy hair is so tousled it almost looks past redemption. There are spider webs in it. Minseok is not sure he wants to know where the other had sneaked to.

“Something you obviously have never respected once in your short life,” he mumbles, picking dust and straws along with the spider webs from his hair.

Jong In snickers as he makes his way to the back of the warehouse, where a small door leads to an alley where they have discharged since the previous day. 

Jongdae has been gone for nearly three hours. Jun Myeon had met with Yixing, who told him they would like to listen to what Jongdae had to say. He said he had even found some documents about Jongdae as a kid in the archive, and that those would prove his identity and his intentions.

When he left, Jongdae had hugged Minseok. 

It gave Minseok an incurable sense of warmth that he doesn’t really mind, except that paired with the longing and the worry, it barely allows him to pay attention to his surroundings.

Kyungsoo is singing, playing with two pieces of scrap wood he found under one of the carts stacked up in a corner of the warehouse. It makes Minseok’s heart clench a little; they deserve much more than this. He remembers during his sister’s first pregnancy, how he helped her and her husband painting a room for the baby, the drought was not too bad back then, they all thought it’d go away eventually and spent a lot of money for toys and a nice crib in carved wood. And now they don’t have anything. 

Baekhyun joins Kyungsoo in the singing, ungracefully adding long strings of words that don’t rhyme and don’t make sense, and Kyungsoo has to threaten to hit him with the wood to make him stop, but the older starts again louder each time.

Minseok barely hears them, focused on the low ceiling of the sky outside of the high window. Dark blue, billowing clouds threaten to spill, but it’s not raining and the sound of storms hasn’t accompanied the kids in their songs, yet. So Minseok deduces that Jongdae is fine, so far, if not really at his happiest.

It is very strange to be aware of being in the middle of Su Do, a capital with thousands of citizens, and that he’s looking at the same sky from their same angle, and that he’s no longer the only spectator of Jongdae’s moods. He wonders what a random, busy, not particularly religious citizen would think, glancing at the clouds. They would probably not dwell on the sight too much, for they don’t know what it means.

Jong In doesn’t come back for a long time. Minseok grows uneasy.

“Stay here,” Minseok warns the children. He has to repeat the order twice before Baekhyun nods to let him know he heard him.

He stalks through the carriages and the boxes, inhaling the scent of dust and old wood, the soles of his boots barely producing any sound. He reaches the back door. “Jong In?” he calls.

From outside comes a weird sound, almost a crackle.

“Jong In, you alright?”

Silence. He lifts a hand to open the door, when suddenly there’s noise at his left.

He ducks just before arms can close around his torso. “Jong In!” he screams.

The man who just tried to tackle him is definitely not Jong In. Minseok doesn’t wait for Jong In’s response, nor for the man to get up and try again. He didn’t see much of him, but it was definitely not someone from the Sea; a blonde head would have been in the right place there, in Jun Myeon’s warehouse, meaning this is an intruder. 

Turning tail to get away from danger, Minseok almost slams against another enemy. There’s a cloth covering the lower half of his face, but Minseok is familiar with the purple uniform of the guards now. He’s quick to dart away, though the man almost rips his shirt grabbing his sleeve. 

Running like he has never ran before, Minseok makes his way back to where he left the kids. “Jong In!” he yells, almost toppling when he tries to check if they’re following him in the maze of goods. They multiplied. “Jong In, where are you?”

“Minseok!” Jong In’s voice is so far away. 

The impact against someone who was trying to ambush him makes Minseok plunge to the floor. He hits his arm forcefully, everything starts buzzing because of the pain, but before the other guard can jump over him he manages to strike a powerful kick to the man’s abdomen, freeing himself. He scrambles up, ducks under a carriage to make it to the other side and mislead and slow down the guards.

Once he turns the corner and arrives at the place where they had been camping, he finds it empty. 

“Baek? Kyungsoo?” he whispers. “Are you here? Come out—”

“Minseok!” Jong In calls again. “I got them!”

Minseok darts in the direction of the voice, to the main entrance of the warehouse. “Jong In! Are they with you?”

“Yes!” Jong In yells back, saying something that Minseok cannot hear because of his own panting breaths. He jumps over several rolls of fabric and when he hears the men’s voices behind him, he sends a mental apology to Jun Myeon and drags down a cart after the other, making trunks spill their contents on the floor. 

But more people try to surround him, and seconds before someone drags him to the ground he shouts, “Go, Jong In! Just go!”

Someone holds him by the arms, and then everything fades to black.

-

Minseok has already lived this once, twice, countless times; the sensation of being lulled by Mother, his face touched by the rain, the water on his face like paint on his closed eyelids, and he just has to follow the rivulets, just let Mother sing him to sleep while the sky flutters and dances over him.

But this time Mother is not claiming him; Mother is raining on him in colours that are spinning in his mind with violet hues, and they spin quickly, faster, faster, he can’t keep up.

He gasps.

More water falls into his mouth, tickles his throat when he swallows it, and his eyes struggle to adapt to this vision. It’s like the thick grey bluish clouds continue spinning in front of his now open eyes, like a tornado high up above, and the bluster keeps pushing them to roll on themselves, and it pushes Minseok too. 

Minseok turns to his side, coughing. For a second he feels like the caress of the rain is similar to the touch of a hand to his face, but it’s brief, and Minseok chokes again a little. He’s freezing, he huddles on the stone of the pavement. Something jangles; his ankles and wrists are heavy. 

He doesn’t even need to open his eyes and look at the colonnade to understand that he’s in the yard in the prisons, and he doesn’t need to check to realise he’s been chained around his ankles and his hands are tied together.

The downpour intensifies; Minseok can only pray that Jongdae is not in a predicament similar to his, but now that he can watch the celestial vault he wouldn’t really bet on Jongdae’s serenity.

It’s hard to hear anything over the steady drumming of the rain, and Minseok cannot focus on the faint voices that reach his tired ears. He’s so tired; he doesn’t know what is happening to him.

And he had run back—but he hadn’t found the kids where he left them. Kyungsoo’s toys were on the floor, and they were not in sight. He heard Jong In say something. Are they safe? They might be, if they are with Jong In.

He tries to roll over to his other side, but he can hardly keep his face afloat over a puddle that smells metallic and looks weirdly red. 

“Where is he?”

His weariness evaporates; attentive, Minseok tries to keep his eyes open, shifting his gaze around. He’s unfortunately familiar with the place, so he immediately turns to look at the colonnade. He knows there’s only one access to the covered walkway that circles the prison’s courtyard, so the voice must come from there.

And there Jongdae is, but something is wrong.

He’s surrounded by the wisemen, who are bowing to him every few words and smiling their yellow, beardy, mellifluous smiles. One of them summons the Captain of the Guards with a flick of their wrist and they confabulate quietly.

Jongdae is unrestrained and unharmed, which makes Minseok almost laugh out loud with relief. Given the weather’s conditions, he had foretold much worse. Not a hair out of place, not even a slouch, his jaw unclenched, Jongdae looks fine. But the fact that he’s alone with the wisemen, and that Yixing and Jun Myeon or any other member of the Council or servant of sorts is not in sight makes Minseok’s skin crawl with anxiety, besides the cold. Something is wrong and confusing.

The weather’s master is serious and steady. Only an attentive observer like Minseok can tell that he’s actually keeping his shoulders a little too high, and that his pose with his hands joined in front of himself is unnatural and creepy. He doesn’t know what Jongdae is pretending to be, but he doesn’t know or like this side of him.

After the Captain has finished his report, the wise clears his throat. “Master, We found your prisoner. He was here in the capital, stealing from a foreigner and hiding in his private property. How do you want Us to proceed?”

Minseok has the bone-chilling sensation that they’re talking about himself.

Also...  _ master? _

Jongdae nods. “What would the regular procedure be?”

“He had been previously sentenced to a life-sentence because of his crimes against you. But given the aggravating factor of his escape, the theft of the horse of one of our dearest Council members, and multiple small other robberies We will probably not be able to recount during his month of being on the run, We have decided to sentence him to death.”

Death; the word seems to be carried by the booming thunder that follows.

Minseok is sure they’re talking about him. He struggles against his restraints, feeling a temperature drop that is not attributable to the weather. He had known this would be the result if they caught him, but it doesn’t explain why they are telling this to Jongdae and why Jongdae listens without batting an eye.

Jongdae tilts his head and smiles. “Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I... take over from now on.”

_ What. _

All the wisemen nod at the same time, all of them exhibiting a obliging smile and curling their old bodies into exaggerated bows, as low as their age and their fat bellies allow. “Of course, Master.”

“Where is he?”

The bald wisemen points one bony finger towards the point where Minseok is laying in the middle of the yard. 

Minseok screams when he can feel lightning strike the earth not so far from them, the moment Jongdae crosses his gaze for a split second. It’s just a second, but Minseok is left panting, convulsing, the wet stone under his body carrying the electricity with velvety, yet spiky waves that keep hitting him for many long seconds.

Jongdae’s eyes had been so empty. Minseok has never been more scared in his life. Never. 

“May We ask how?”

“He played with my powers. I think it’s only fair that my powers kill him.”

Minseok should have probably seen it coming. It doesn’t make it any easier.

Maybe part of him expected it, months ago. And the part of him that had been so incredulous when Jongdae showed his want to restore their closeness understands why he had been right to struggle believing it was true. But at this moment, he can only think of Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, now. They’re going to be alone.

Yet it makes literally no sense, and Minseok frowns.

“We find it fair, too. How can We aid you?”

“Maybe you remember that I was sent to the Mountain for the safety of the people surrounding me. There were a couple of episodes.” Jongdae leaves the sentence lingering.

Immediately the wisemen launch themselves in courteous muttering.

Jongdae lowers his gaze on his hands. He opens them, palm upwards, he wiggles his fingers. “I can feel Mother tingling in my fingertips. We have waited for this for a while…” he glances at the sky. “I will need you to evacuate the yard. He’s the only person I want to kill, I don’t want to make mistakes. Mother would suffer if there were casualties.”

“Of course,” the fat wiseman excuses himself to mutter with the Captain in a corner. After a minute, all the guards start abandoning their posts.

Poor Jongdae. Always so aware of himself, always so considerate to others. Yet on the brink of losing himself and to betray his nature, because of something Minseok pushed him to do.

Whether he’s deceiving the wisemen or he actually plans on punishing him, it’s not something that belongs to Jongdae’s gentle self and it’s Minseok’s fault that he’s about to do it.

“Whenever you want to proceed, Weather’s Master,” the head wise gestures to the yard.

After a curt nod, Jongdae steps under the rain. 

Minseok hates that his heart increases in speed at the sight of him, not because he’s about to kill him, but because he’s beautiful and he loves him.

Lightning strikes the top of one of the towers of the Seat of the Council. The wisemen flinch and duck, but remain at the margins of the scene. Minseok doesn’t bat an eye, he simply watches Jongdae as he gets drenched and covers the distance between them with slow, determined steps.

“Dae.” 

Lightning, thunder. This choreography of the sky is familiar to Minseok. 

“Dae, I—”

Jongdae finally looks at him. Just like that time on the Mountain, Minseok sees the sky swing open, tearing itself in half, and he thinks he can see things he’s not supposed to see, as if the core of life, or Mother herself, were looking down at him through lashes of electricity and irises the colour of liquid amethyst.

Minseok pushes himself up until he’s sitting. Out of instinct, he scuttles backwards, but there’s not much distance he can put between himself and the weather’s master when his ankles are chained to a hook in the stone slabs of the pavement. He’s just a creature trying to escape his fate.

Jongdae’s gaze falls on the puddle of blood mixed with rain where he had laid, and he stops. Lightning hits the stone in the yard; the pavement cracks. Something inside Minseok’s ears cracks, too. 

The sky bleeds on the earth, with heavy raindrops that feel like whips. Jongdae’s hands tremble at his sides, but he covers the distance that separates him from Minseok in two quick strides.

“Minseok.”

He grabs the sides of Minseok’s head, forcefully.

Minseok can’t hear him, he can’t hear anything. Deafened by the thunder, he only sees Jongdae’s mouth moving and maybe, he thinks for a second in which everything spins, maybe the thunder is coming out of his mouth and the lightning is residing in the depth of his eyes.

Unable to keep looking, a coward in front of whatever Jongdae is trying to do, Minseok shuts his eyes closed and clenches his teeth. He waits. He waits as he had waited for Jong In to punch him, like he had waited for Jongdae to strike him dead with lightning on the Mountain.

But the hands at the sides of his face are stronger, and he can hear faint echoes and a long, continuous whistle.

“—seok,”

He opens his eyes. 

Jongdae is there, raindrops on his face like crystals. He keeps moving his lips. “Can—hear me? You—if you can—me.”

Minseok nods, unable to deny him anything.

“Listen to—carefully. Baekhyun and—safe, they are—”

And with a small pop and a warm, wet, dropping sensation in his ear ducts, Minseok regains his hearing and can hear himself breathing hard. Jongdae’s voice is clear but scratchy, like drizzle on thin glass.

“Did you hear me? Baekhyun and Kyungsoo are with Jong In. They are safe with him, you don’t have to worry.”

Minseok’s heart feels a lot lighter. He knows Jong In would do anything to protect them, and he knows Jongdae wouldn’t punish them. It’s nice of him to let him know.

Jongdae gets closer. His hold around his face is tender, now, and his thumbs are swiping under Minseok’s eyes gently. How does he know that there are tears there, masked by all that water?

“I’m afraid I am going to hurt you, Minseok. I am sorry, but it’s the only way.”

Minseok supposes a little pain he could endure. Everything would be over afterwards anyway, right?

_ Wait, what even? _

Jongdae’s skin on his face is doing the same weird tingling thing it had done on the clearing when Minseok had told him he loved him. 

It all comes down to this moment.

The weather’s master shifts his gaze between Minseok’s eyes, biting his lips. For a second he looks as fragile and hurt and unsure as that first time he had left Minseok in the hut to wander in the rain, and he had met him at the door. And he had blushed.

He doesn’t blush now. He’s so pale.

“This is the only way,” he repeats, as if to himself.

Minseok doesn’t want to miss a second. Forcing his own sobbing chest to still, he tries to smile. He lifts his tied hands and grabs the front of Jongdae’s shirt.

“I loved you for real, Dae.”

Jongdae smiles softly. “I know,” he says. Minseok is not sure he’s hearing him through his voice or through the wind. Jongdae cups his face. “I love you, too.”

Before Minseok can fully understand his message, Jongdae frowns and darts forward. Their lips meet, they’re tingling too, and then Minseok is frozen in time, nowhere and everywhere at the same time, carried by the lightning that just fell on them. 

The last thing he sees is Jongdae’s preoccupied face, then everything is white, then there’s nothing.

-

With a clean break, Minseok’s realm of dreams subsides, absorbed quickly by the realm of his waking like parched earth drinks in the water.

_ This doesn’t feel like death. _

The scent of rain is familiar, but alien; rather than suggesting the woods that surrounded the clearing, it is pushing images of a city into his tired mind.

He exhales loudly, achy from the tips of his hair down to his toes. 

“Minseok?”

He snaps his eyes open. 

Jongdae is hovering over him.

Minseok flinches away, flailing a little. Jongdae, too, jumps backwards and almost topples over a stool.

One thing at a time; Minseok focuses on the stool now dangling on its short legs. There’s a wooden floor under it, smooth, dark slats of polished wood. And a carpet, red and yellow and rich with embroidered drawings, under Jongdae’s bare feet.

In his haste to put space between them, Minseok had cowered in the corner between the wall and the headboard of the very comfortable bed he had apparently been laying on. A glance around the room lit by the afternoon sun and the fireplace confirms the impression he had about all of it being familiar: he’s in one of the rooms of Yixing’s home in Su Do.

“What—” he tries, his voice ugly and hoarse. “Jongdae, what—”

Jongdae is fidgeting, not looking at him, looking small and vulnerable. Nothing like he had looked when he told the wisemen he was going to be the one to—

“Jongdae what the hell is going on—” Minseok gasps out.

Jongdae rushes forward and sits on the edge of the bed next to him, shushing him quietly and taking his hands. “How are you feeling?”

Minseok looks at him, at their hands, at the window battered by the rain. “Dae?”

“You’re safe. We are in Yixing’s home. Baekhyun and Kyungsoo are here, they’re downstairs.”

“They—”

“Jun Myeon is on nanny duty. They’re fine.”

Minseok looks around again, unable to focus on one thing only, but Jongdae moves in front of him, intercepting his gaze and guiding him back to a state of calm. 

“What…” Minseok licks his chapped lips. “What happened, Jongdae?”

“We were nearly hit by lightning, two days ago. You have slept until now. They hit your head when they arrested you, but it seems to be healing nicely.”

Minseok can’t help but scoff at the absurdity of the situation. “Is this going to become a habit? Waking up with my skull cracked after I was hit by lightning?

Jongdae chuckles. He’s nervous. Minseok is left there to stare at his small smile wondering whether it has all been a weird dream, but not for long. He hears voices in the corridor, one of which sounds a lot like Yixing’s, then Jongdae clears his throat. He keeps his eyes on the floor. “I’m sorry, Minseok. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Jongdae, I just want to know what’s going on, because until ten seconds ago I thought you killed me and I was dead.”

Jongdae freezes.

“You thought I would...” Jongdae’s eyes redden, filling with tears. His hands finally drop. “Oh, Mother. You heard us, didn’t you. You thought I was really—”

Minseok sighs. He deflates. “I don’t know. Yes, I heard you talk with the wisemen. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know whether this is real.”

Jongdae carefully retracts his hands. Minseok swallows and hugs his knees. They’re both wearing someone else’s clothes, but while Jongdae is unharmed, Minseok’s wrists and ankles are bandaged because of the abrasions of the handcuffs. So is his head, apparently, because when he tries to mess up his hair he finds out that there’s something wrapped around his forehead.

After waiting for a minute, gathering his thoughts, Jongdae inhales a shaky breath. “You may have understood that we had to abandon our original plan.”

“We didn’t really have a plan. You were supposed to talk to Yixing and I was supposed to wait.”

“Yixing talked with his trusted members of the Council in the morning, according to plan. He found their support, but also their advice. They all agreed on the fact that what we planned was not going to work out in our favour. They had another idea, and after Jun Myeon picked me up at the warehouse they helped me perfect it.” He pauses, gauging Minseok for reactions.

Minseok simply looks at him. 

“Yixing didn’t say anything before the Council gathered in the afternoon. Jun Myeon left me near the Seat of the Council, and then ran to the Guard Station... saying there was an intruder and a thief in his warehouse. He described you, and immediately the Captain deployed people after you, in secret. Jun Myeon then ran to the warehouse, met Jong In and instructed him to take the kids and go hide them.”

Minseok doesn’t understand a thing. “Wait, did Jun Myeon report me to the guards?!”

“Yes.”

“But—”

“It was part of the plan.”

Minseok would very much like to scream. Probably able to read his wishes on his face, Jongdae smiles indulgently. “In the meantime, I presented myself at the Seat of the Council. I was immediately escorted in the presence of the wisemen for a private audience. They dismissed their previous meetings. I…” he clears his throat. “I went to them to report y-your crimes against me.”

Minseok can only gape. Literally none of this makes sense so far, and he can’t decide whether he wants to kick Jongdae or himself.

“I said I wanted justice. That I came to the Plains despite my ban because I needed them to know a citizen had crossed the line and needed to be prosecuted. I said I knew you received a letter, but that you had broken my heart before it.”

“Wait, you pretended you didn’t know it was them all along?”

“Yes. They were delighted. They thought you lied to them when you said I found out thanks to the letter because you needed to hide your shortcomings. So they were twice as ecstatic, and couldn’t wait to get rid of you.” He shivers. “I can’t even think about the faces they made. Minseok, I understand now. They are sly, they are ruthless liars, I am so sorry you had to fall in their traps. If I didn’t know your truths, I would have probably fallen in their despicable deceits too.”

Minseok grimaces. “I’m sorry you had to deal with them, too.”

Jongdae bites his lips. “Just as I was talking to them, the news of your arrest came. I said I wanted to be the one to... take care of your execution.” Comforted by the fact that Minseok is no longer a statue, Jongdae attempts a smile. “It’s true that I cannot control the weather or the lightning. But they didn’t know that. I reflected on what Jun Myeon said the other night, that I just needed to put on a show. So I tried. Well, I didn’t really have to try. Seeing you on the ground—”

Minseok touches his head self-consciously. 

“I needed to force a reaction out of myself that would impress them. When I, well—”

“You kissed me.”

Jongdae coughs. “Yeah. I caused lightning and, well, you fell unconscious.”

Minseok doesn’t doubt that he would have fallen unconscious just because of the kiss itself, so the lightning was really unnecessary. But everyone else probably needed the trick. 

“The wisemen, the guards, everyone around was knocked out. They... declared you dead, and they brought you outside of the building. Yixing had explained to us all the procedures so Jun Myeon was waiting for you and he took you away.”

“Am I officially dead?” Minseok asks, mind-blown.

“Wait, I’ll get there. When the wisemen recovered from my show, they brought me to the rest of the Council with the intention of telling them the distorted version of the truth, but I used that opportunity to expose their crimes to the fifty instead. T hey all believed me. Yixing brought all the evidence he could, his own testimony, and even a couple of guards came forward to tell what they’d heard during your audiences. The vote against the wisemen was unanimous; they are in prison now, sentenced because of the same crimes you had been sentenced for, plus what they did to you when they decided to ruin your life instead of facing up to their responsibilities and owning up to their mistakes. And for what they did to the kids, selling them to slavers is inhumane. And there’s the, uhm, minor detail of them being the cause of the drought. Apparently their decision to exile me had been autonomous. No one in the Council had participated in that vote either, and they had been told nebulous lies about my situation, too.”

“Did they tell you why they sent people on the Mountain?”

“They said they wanted to make sure I was alright, but we can agree on the fact that it was just another lie, a bad one at that. I suppose they’ll never tell, and I’d rather not know.”

Minseok whistles. “They are really going to pay for everything they did to you?”

“And to the People, too. Hurting me is hurting the People. The drought is the demonstration.”

“Dae, I’m talking about you. They still made your childhood miserable and your youth lonely. Instead of punishing you for something you couldn’t control, they should have helped you. You should be happy that they are paying for that.”

Jongdae smiles softly, but doesn’t answer. “Yixing got the word out and it spread like wildfire. Let’s say the People don’t really appreciate the wisemen anymore.”

“Do they appreciate you?”

Jongdae keeps his gaze on the floor. “I don’t know. The Council swore solemnly to protect my identity, even though some of them proposed that I become your ruler,” he chuckles. “Can you believe it?”

He’s caught off guard by the way Minseok grins at him. Because yes, Minseok can believe it. Who wouldn’t propose Jongdae as their ruler, after seeing him talk with his steady demeanour, with that immense aura of dignity, bearing the wisdom and compassion of Mother, wearing the clouds as his cape and the lightning as his sword, and the sun rays as his crown?

Minseok would kneel in front of him without hesitation.

“Why pretend you killed me, then?”

Uneasy, Jongdae lets his smile melt away from his lips. “I needed the wisemen to fear me. I needed to make sure they would believe that I was on their side. They wouldn’t have allowed me to talk in front of the fifty otherwise. And as soon as I accused them, the wisemen would have taken action against you. You were leverage against me as long as you were alive. Well, to their knowledge. I couldn’t have you anywhere near Su Do, not without risking they would eliminate you as the key testimony. The Council still wants to hear from you, they know you’re not dead, but the trial has concluded already.” He attempts a wobbly smile. “We’re both free.”

Minseok surges forward to put his hands on Jongdae’s upper arms. “What does that mean? What about you? What will change for you? You planned, lied, did all of this—for me?”

The weather’s master shrugs a little and ignores the last part. “I’m free to live wherever it pleases me, even in the Desert or in a vessel in the middle of the Sea. The Council is eager to get my forgiveness, though they don’t need it, so they are not going to limit me in any way. Actually, I asked them to just protect my identity and ignore me. And they will, because as long as I have you... the Plains’ thirst will be quenched.”

To Minseok, this conclusion seems like a beautiful dream. He shivers. “Are you planning on keeping me for a long time?”

Oh, how he missed the way Jongdae’s lips curled into a smile without the restraints of mistrust or uncertainty. “Yes, Minseok.”

“Are you…” Minseok hesitates. A wrong answer would probably hurt more than another lightning bolt to the head. “Are you keeping me just because of your responsibility towards the Plains?”

Jongdae chuckles, then tries to be serious but fails, and openly laughs. 

Confused, Minseok lets him go. But the weather’s master puts his cool hand against his face and traces his skin with extreme care, tilting his head to look at him with a fond smile. With careful fingers he brushes the bangs that slipped out of the bandages and then cradles his head carefully, on his nape. 

Minseok bites his tongue, but ultimately he can’t stay still. “Can I—kiss you? I know it wouldn’t really be gradual exposure, but you already kissed me first, I was not so out of it not to notice, and I know you did it because you needed to cause lightning to put on a show, but I can’t help but wonder—”

Jongdae pulls him closer and kisses him.

It’s nice how something in their near vicinity, probably a tree, gets destroyed by the lightning that follows. The thunder is loud, louder than ever.

Not loud enough to cover the way Yixing yelps somewhere in the house. 

Well. This is something the Plains will need to get used to.

Minseok smiles, puts his forehead against Jongdae’s, and then smiles some more. Jongdae pushes him back on the bed, laying in his arms, and Minseok thinks he might melt there, become one with the mattress and then seep through it, because he feels warm and soft and cared for and Jongdae kisses him again. His lips are smooth, and caring, and Minseok feels like he’s the most privileged man of all the lands. 

Yixing screams again, on the floor below, and Jun Myeon’s high-pitched laughter follows.

Minseok chuckles in Jongdae’s hair. “Not a single tree will be left standing on the Plains if you continue kissing me,” he whispers.

Jongdae laughs, burrowing in his embrace. “Oh, so now you worry about the trees?”

“Dae, will you…”

Jongdae lifts his head to look at him, skeptical. “What?”

“What will you do? I promised you that you’d be able to go back home, one day. Now you’re free. My part in this conquest was very little, but... you can go, if you want.”

“Do you want me to go back to the Mountain?” Jongdae asks. “Do you want to come with me to the Mountain? What are you trying to ask me, Minseok?”

Minseok licks his lips, trying to reorganise his thoughts. “Would you like to live here, on the Plains?”

Jongdae squints. “I don’t think I would mind it, but I can’t base my judgement on valid memories so I guess I’ll have to try life on the Plains before I can decide if I like it or not. What are you really trying to ask me, Minseok?”

Clearing his throat, Minseok stalls. “I know how important that place is for you. I know it’s the only home you know, it’s your place in the lands, and that you deserve some peace. And... yeah, it’s your choice, and it’s not my place to ask, and the Plains are full of people and other things you’re not used to, and we’re pretty far from the Sea...”

The more he talks, the more Jongdae’s eyebrows keep rising. 

“Would you like to try life here on the Plains?” he tries.

Jongdae tilts his head. “I literally just said I’m going to keep you. Of course I would like to try. As long as we’re together.”

“Really?”

“Really, Minseok.” Jongdae kisses him once. “Let’s destroy some more trees, now. I really missed you.”

-

A loud sigh. 

Minseok opens his eyes grudgingly, especially when he finds Jun Myeon holding a tray and staring at him pointedly. The intrusion reminds him that the Sea people have a scarce notion of personal boundaries. Yixing would have never allowed such an incursion if he were aware of it.

A sleepy mumble at his right suggests that maybe Jun Myeon is actually glaring at Jongdae. 

“You are making me lose my bet with Se Hun. I have never lost a bet against Se Hun before, Jongdae.”

It’s weird to hear Jun Myeon whining. 

Jongdae doesn’t bother to remove his face from Minseok’s shirt on his chest. He pulls his hand away from under Minseok’s shirt to pull the blanket higher to his face. “Serves you well for making my hurt feelings a betting object,” he mutters.

Jun Myeon places the tray on the stool next to the bed, sighing. “I suppose they are not hurt anymore,” he says casually.

Jongdae only snorts. 

Minseok blinks up at the sailor, wondering whether he’s part of this conversation. But Jun Myeon only winks, before he makes his way out of the room crooning a “good morning.”

Jongdae’s breathing starts evening out again, but Minseok fidgets. It leads to Jongdae not being comfortable anymore. “I can hear you thinking.”

Going for the same casual tone Jun Myeon had used, Minseok asks, “Are your feelings still hurt?” except that he sounds a little too high-pitched to be even remotely passable.

Jongdae moves around until their faces are on the same level. “They’re healing over,” he says quietly. “Yours?”

“I’m the one who hurt you.”

“I hurt you, too. I acted cold and pretended I couldn’t stand you, I feigned mistrust. Yes, I did it because I was hurt, but it was disproportionate and selfish.” He leans to kiss Minseok’s cheek. “And that is not me. Yet you knew I was still in love with you, because I was still bonded to the Plains. And you had asked me to promise that I would never doubt your feelings, and I never did. Not even for a second.”

Minseok waits in silence for him to sort his thoughts out. 

In the end, Jongdae smiles. “Once you told me, almost anything in life can be repaired. Thankfully, I am pretty sure we can repair us. It might take time, but we can sort this out.” He shakes his head while he dries the skin under Minseok’s eyes. “Don’t cry. I am keeping you, Minseok. If you still want me.”

Not a single moment in life had been more perfect than this, for Minseok. 

“Min, I’m sorry, I tried to stop them—”

“Uncle Min!” Baekhyun shrieks, jumping over the bed and stabbing his stomach with his knee. “You said no leave again!”

Kyungsoo clings to his brother’s ankle to lift himself on the bed. “Uncle Min, why you not tell me a story yesterday night?” he whines. “You don’t tell me a story of the lonely prince on the Mountain! I could not sleep!”

Minseok tries to defend himself from the attacks and wipe his eyes at the same time, not really succeeding. 

“A story of a lonely prince on a mountain, huh?” Jongdae asks thoughtfully, bringing the attention onto himself.

“Jonday?” Baekhyun continues with a perforating tone of voice. “Jonday, what are you doing here?”

Jongdae manages to sit up before Baekhyun can accidentally flail pointy elbows and knees into his face. “I was keeping company to your uncle, Baek, we were  _ just  _ talking about the lonely man on the mountain.”

Minseok didn’t think Kyungsoo would be so strong, but the kid manages to push both of his legs off the bed before he can even realise it. “What are you doing, Soo?”

“Come see!” Kyungsoo screams. “Come see! You have see!”

Minseok is dislodged from the bed by their combined efforts. At least on the floor he doesn’t have to answer Jongdae’s inquisitive gaze and he can die of shame without being disturbed.

“Be careful, your uncle is hurt—oh, well, too late,”

Minseok finds the floor oddly comfortable. Jongdae’s laughter rings in his ears like a melody.

“Good morning, Xing,” he grumbles, and takes the hand his friend is offering. He’s pulled up and into a hug. “Nice to see you. Thanks for the hospitality.”

Yixing smiles affectionately. “You’re welcome. It’s nice to see you, too. Did Jongdae bring you up to speed?”

“He tried, yes. We’ll have to talk a lot, you and I.”

“Uncle Min!” Kyungsoo has gotten pretty offended by now, if the way he’s clomping around him is of any indication. 

Minseok hurries to pick him up. “Tell me everything, Soo. I’m all ears.”

“Don’t bend like that, Min, you hit your head and might get dizzy!”

“I’m fine, Xing, don’t worry. What is that you want to tell me, Soo?”

“Window!”

“All right,” Minseok walks to the window and parts the fine emerald curtains. “Let’s see... oh.”

A glorious rainbow arches over the roofs of the capital, its colours vibrant, its width encompassing everything.

It’s Kyungsoo’s favourite thing to draw. 

It’s something familiar and the milestone of a course that has just come full circle. But it’s also something new; he turns to Jongdae, wondering what it means in his own special vocabulary. Jongdae spies outside too, and then only grins wordlessly from where he’s sitting trapped under Baekhyun’s rapid fire of questions. 

Minseok smiles back, and turns to admire it again. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it Soo?” he mumbles.

“Xing gave me colors.”

“You’re going to draw the most beautiful rainbows now. Did you say ‘thank you, Yixing’?”

Kyungsoo kicks to be put down, and he trots to Yixing. “Thank you, Yixing!”

Minseok stares at the rainbow for another minute, and when he turns back Jongdae is still listening intently to Baekhyun. “...and then there was the monster of the river, and it was all scary, and then Jonging said we had to run and he beat the monster, and the monster was like—” Baekhyun throws himself on the mattress, strategically closer to the tray with the breakfast. “And rawr and thing, then we ran the monster away, and the monster—”

“There was no monster,” Kyungsoo deadpans, having climbed next to them with the coloured pencils Yixing had given him.

Baekhyun sort of inflates, ready to explode, and ends up pulling at Kyungsoo’s hair. Kyungsoo retaliates.

Jongdae and Minseok spend the next fifteen minutes trying to separate the kids, and Minseok still thinks, when they cross gazes over breakfast and he can reach out to tuck a strand of hair behind the weather’s master’s ear without doubting that he’s allowed to do so, that no moment in his life has been more perfect than this.

  
  


EPILOGUE

Minseok is repairing the outer fence of the stables, using his straw hat to protect himself from the sun and from the glances of the people who happen to walk near him.

“Hello, Minseok!” some of them wave at him. Some others, people that have known him since he was a baby, stop and chat a little. “Where have you been? Oh, the Sea? Was there work for you there? Nice. This place has been empty for so long I thought you would never come back. It’s good to see you. Come to my emporium, one of these days, will you?”

He tries to be polite with everyone, he tries not to let it show that he’s not telling them the truth and that he hadn’t actually decided to emigrate to the Sea in the middle of the drought.

While the misdeeds of the wisemen are now public knowledge, the names of the weather’s master and of the man who deceived him are a secret well kept by the Council. To mislead the people and to discourage them from looking for the Child of Mother, a rumor had been put around about how the weather’s master had decided to wander in foreign lands to recover from his heartbreak. But even without such stories going around, Minseok struggles to imagine how the people would look at smiling, peaceful, skinny Jongdae and suspect he was more than Minseok’s new stable boy. Yixing had helped Jongdae build a new identity as the guy from the southern border that Minseok had supposedly met while he was working in Hang Gu, after having taken the impromptu decision to take the kids and emigrate with a Sea merchant who offered him a job in his stables.

It’s surprising how easily the people accept this version. Minseok can almost imagine how he would have fallen in love with Jongdae even if he met him in Hang Gu, two foreigners bonding over their lack of tattoos and their homesickness. He doesn’t doubt even for a second that he would have fallen for his bright, feline smile and for his melodic voice and for his gentle words, even if Jongdae were the son of a simple farmer’s wife and none of them had had the responsibility of their land on their shoulders.

After the wisemen were imprisoned, Minseok and Jongdae ended up abusing Yixing’s hospitality for the whole winter as they waited for the coast to clear and decided what to do. Not that Yixing minded; he was delighted by the presence of the kids and of his childhood friend. Minseok had many long emotional talks with him, having needed the support of Yixing for much more than just his current sustenance. All the things Minseok had patiently folded and archived inside of himself, from the loss of his parents and sister to the desperation that had turned his life brittle and chipped, rich only in sacrifices and deprivations, once the drought had shattered the country’s spirit.

Minseok needed to deal with all of that, eventually, and being surrounded by the people who know him best carried him through a regeneration. Eventually, he also accepted that he could forgive himself for hiding the truth from Jongdae for so long.

For his part, Jongdae didn’t seem to mind life on the Plains. While it was true that he preferred to avoid crowds and suffered the lack of opportunities to wander barefoot in the woods, he never complained. No more trees were downed by suspicious lightning and all the concerns the wisemen had had when Jongdae was a kid, about his emotions being dangerous for the people when he was among the people, seemed to be unfounded now that Jongdae was an adult. The winter had been mild and the weather had been clear for most of it.

Baekhyun and Kyungsoo started to laugh louder. Minseok could hear them through the doors, through the floors, through the hardened walls of his regrets. Kyungsoo stopped asking when his mother would come back. Baekhyun stopped doubting Minseok would leave them again.

Jun Myeon and Jong In had left with the following caravan, but not before they made them promise and swear solemnly that they’d be in touch. 

Through pigeons, they found out that Se Hun had passed his examination and that Jun Myeon, after consigning him the substantial sum he had betted against their reconciliation, had chosen him as his right hand in his travels. He also wrote a very long and heartfelt letter of apology to Minseok in which he declared that he had always secretly rooted for him, but that he had tried to intimidate him because he wanted to protect Jongdae. He was afraid he’d gone a little overboard. A post scriptum added by Jun Myeon revealed that Se Hun wouldn’t let him live until Minseok forgave him, so would Minseok please consider it? Jun Myeon will be eternally grateful since he had the misfortune of having Se Hun around night and day.

Chan Yeol wrote to them as soon as he completed his first seasonal job, bringing good news about his sister’s pregnancy and involving them in an amusing name hunt for the baby. Jong In made sure to write to his friend and confident Kyungsoo, seemingly having forgotten that someone would have to read it to him, that Chan Yeol had confessed he liked him, and that Jong In had postponed his next venture job as a rigger to “act on it”. 

So that was exciting, and it made Jongdae laugh for so long he got stomach cramps. Also exciting, Jun Myeon sending the weather’s master a pigeon with a promissory note, since he apparently lost that bet too.

The four sailors promised to visit as soon as they all had holes in their schedules, saying they were excited to see their new home.

Yes, their new home.

Minseok had woken up one morning towards the end of the winter with a thought bugging him, and it hadn’t left him. He had asked Yixing whether he knew what happened to the stables, and Yixing produced all the documents that proved that they still belonged to Minseok without Minseok even having to formulate his thoughts out loud. 

Jongdae had slapped his nape when Minseok had stuttered his idea, because apparently it was only logical that Minseok would go back to his town near the lake, and he was literally the only person who hadn’t considered yet the possibility of reopening the stables, with Jongdae as his self-appointed assistant since he had been learning quickly, and he had the little trick up his sleeve of being a Child of Mother. Maybe Minseok was so used to considering it a dream that he hadn’t yet thought of the logical solution of resuming the family’s profession again.

Which was easier said than done. 

Minseok is halfway through the southern side of the fence, when it becomes clear to him that the people casually stopping by to chat with him are not there coincidentally, but because word’s gotten out that Minseok is back. 

He doesn’t like to be the center of attention, but he also feels a little heartened when he realises that most of these people had always been nice to him. He’s relieved to see that some of them are still alive, and that all of them look better than he had seen them in years. He listens to how they talk about how someone’s business has restarted, how someone has gotten married, how a family that had emigrated has come back just the week before, like him. It’s nice. 

But the fence is not going to repair itself. And the fence is only the smallest of his problems. 

He doesn’t know how he could restart his parents’ business. True, a couple of villagers had already stopped by in the afternoon asking whether Minseok would help them. One needed help taming a wild stallion and the other proposed to rent out a couple of boxes for his mares. But Minseok had yet to start and he was already accumulating debts; he wouldn’t feel at ease until he could pay back Jun Myeon and the others for rescuing Baekhyun and Kyungsoo from the trade, and he’s currently putting food on the table with money that Yixing lent him.

And he hasn’t abandoned his ideas about the traditional ten gifts to court Jongdae.

It’s almost sundown when he reaches the last section, head heavy with plans, and only partially reassured by the blue sky over his head. Jongdae is confident that everything will go well.

“Hello, Minseok.”

He barely lifts his head. “Hello,” he answers, finishing to hammer the nails into the beam. 

He gets no answer, but he also hears no further footsteps, meaning the two figures who just approached him are still there. So he looks up. 

Minhyung had always had such a wide, bright smile. 

“Minhyung!” he exclaims, standing up to hug his younger friend. “Minhyung, I’m so glad to see you! How are you? How’s your father?”

Minhyung chuckles. “All good. It’s good to see you too. How are the kids? In town they say you’re going to restart business.”

Minseok huffs and gestures vaguely to the broken fence and his tools strewed on the grass. “I would like to try, but I don’t really know.”

Minhyung exchanges a look with the guy accompanying him, before he lowers his gaze. “Minseok, this is Donghyuck, my friend.”

_ Friend, right. _

“It’s nice to meet you.” They shake hands.

“I was wondering... ever since I heard you were back, I thought you’d want a hand if you were to restart the business. I don’t work with my father anymore, and I would love to help you. Donghyuck, too, he can work for you, too.”

“I appreciate it, Minhyung, but I…” Minseok looks around. “I can’t pay you. I don’t have any money for you, let alone for two of you. I’m so sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Minhyung hurries to explain. “We can help you for free now, and then when the business picks up we can talk about it again. We just want to work. I loved working here and Donghyuck, he’s good with horses, and he can learn, he will learn quickly.”

“I’m sure. I’m not turning you down because I don’t want him or you, but because I cannot afford you. I’d love to have you back, but there’s nothing to do. I don’t have horses, let alone silvers.”

“You’ll have them.” Minhyung fidgets. “I might have—done something.”

Minseok sighs. “Minhyung.”

“I was in Su Do at my cousin’s wedding four days ago and I went to the market to see the horses,” Minhyung talks quickly, afraid of being interrupted. “I talked to a merchant from the Desert about the fact that you were back, and he said he would love to lend you back some of the silvers he had bought from you during the past six years, so you could rent them for a percentage while you restart and—”

“Minhyung. Did you make agreements in my name?”

“No? I just told him to come here and talk to you once the market week is over and he goes back to the Desert. He was really happy to hear you’re back.”

Minseok rubs his forehead, sighing. If he remembers correctly, the merchant might arrive the following day. “Do I know him?”

“It’s Lu’han.”

“Of course it’s Lu’han.” Minseok inhales deeply and looks around himself. He had been on friendly terms with Lu’han for as long as he could remember. He was the only merchant that never gave up and continued to visit him during the drought, hoping to do business with him even when Minseok had owned nothing except the clothes he had been wearing.

Minseok ponders. When he hears voices he turns to see Baekhyun dragging Jongdae by the shirt on the red earth of the circle, gesticulating and blabbering. Kyungsoo is skipping ahead of them, a paper in his hands. 

“Will you think about it? If Lu’han comes and you decide to accept his conditions, we can work for free for a couple months, just—just come call me? Do you remember where I live?”

Minseok purses his lips, but nods. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

Minyung jumps, clasping Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Thank you so much, Min!”

“Thank you, Minseok!” Donghyuck echoes him.

“I haven’t said ‘yes’ yet.”

“But I know you, you will. This is great. I really missed working here, I’m so glad you’re back. And with us you won’t be alone!”

Minseok looks back. Jongdae stops in the middle of the ring, his eyes closed peacefully, his face turned upwards in the light, warm breeze. His hair and his shirt move in the wind, and Minseok has the impression that this moment will last forever, and they will shift through the days of Mother without ever moving away from each other.

And Jongdae looks at him and smiles, and Minseok is sure nothing more beautiful and pure has ever walked the lands or flown on the wings of Mother or flowed under the skin of the earth, and Minseok still gets to call him his, despite everything he did to him.

“I’m not alone anymore.”

-

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been an Experience.   
> Thank you so much to the mods for the excellent fest and for granting me a little more time when I needed it. Thank you to my destined beta for always being so helpful and patient with me. This fest is making me so happy!


End file.
